The Song of the Sun
by Geale
Summary: The souls and hearts of the Elves endure much pain and sorrow, but for Elrond son of Eärendil, the departure of his wife brought grief well-nigh unbearable. Who would have thought that the Sun would ever shine again? Elrond/Legolas SLASH.
1. Prologue

**Summary: **The souls and hearts of the Elves endure much pain and sorrow, but for Elrond son of Eärendil, the departure of his wife brought grief well-nigh unbearable. Who would have thought that the Sun would ever shine again?

**Pairing: **Elrond/Legolas

**Rating: **M, eventually.

**Warnings: **Some angst, much less het (all of it implied and in the past) and plenty of slash.

**Disclaimer: **Middle-earth belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien (who knows all the details of his legendarium that I surely have messed up).

**A/N:** This is, as they say, a tale that grew in the telling. Originally it was meant to cover also the events during the War of the Ring but that would have made it entirely too long and completely unmanageable. Therefore, I ended it much sooner than that and hope that it works well like this. All in all, there are 41 chapters and you will get weekly-ish updates.

If you are the impatient type, you will be unhappy to know that it will take Legolas a few chapters to make his way into the story. Consider yourself warned. Also, needless to say, I have taken some liberties with canon, perhaps most notably with the concept of Elven marriage. The idea of Legolas' mother's fate, I have stolen from the films.

I have labelled this story as romance/angst. There is some of the latter but, truth be told, overall it is not very angsty. It is, on the contrary, the most romantic story I have ever written.

Welcome.

**The Song of the Sun**

**.:O:.**

**Prologue**

**The year 2546 of the Third Age**

**.:O:.**

**Imladris, Eriador**

An eager wind was blowing. It was surely northbound but it cast itself so frivolously between the sleeping trees that it was hard to tell from whence it came or where it truly wished to be journeying. It set the brown, crumpled leaves on the ground spinning in circles and lifted them high into the air to dance closer to the sky which was clear but for a few broad streaks of thin clouds. The sunlight was pale. Wan it looked, as if already weary though winter was just beginning to loosen its grip. Despite the wind, deep in the withered grass of yesteryear, lay memories of an exhausted and greying mist.

I rose to stand by the window and my eyes fell on a notch in the wooden frame. It was but a small mark and not something that I should be considering in this moment for there were other, more pressing, matters at hand, and yet it stole my attention all the same. If ever I should endeavour to search for them, I knew I would find many more such markings that all of them traced my people's history between these walls. For Imladris was over four thousand years old and had seen much joy and much sorrow. It was, all in all, a lived-in place.

As I ran the pad of my thumb over the mark and tried to sense the ghost of whatever had caused the imprint in the wood against my skin, it seemed to me at least an age since anything moved in me. As a matter of fact, I did not feel lived-in at all.

"This wind has no scent," I said, at last, because somebody should say something.

"Hm."

There was a rustle of fabric – heavy travel-stained wool – behind me.

"And what does that tell you?"

I looked back to him. Mithrandir had shifted in his seat but was making no visible attempt to join me by the window.

"Nothing," I told him honestly, "and it troubles me." For it should, though I did not truly feel it.

The Istar had out of respect for me refrained from lighting his pipe but it lay waiting in his lap.

"Not everything has a meaning," he said. "We would do well to remember that, in times such as these."

I tried a smile at him. It was a thin one and it stretched my face oddly. "A wind is simply a wind, sometimes?"

"Sometimes," Mithrandir agreed. He smiled, too, and he looked like he was at ease, and though it was shameful, I envied him. "And sometimes not. And sometimes a scent comes wafting through our windows to speak of great things to come," he went on. "Foul things and bad, and splendour and glory and victory, too. And sometimes it carries no scent and sometimes it portends the simpler things. Such as supper."

"You spend too much time among the halflings, my friend."

But he only laughed at this. "Not half as much as I would like. They are a delightful folk, to be sure. Very… unburdened by all that is troubling to taller people."

"Indeed."

Silence fell around us after that, such as it often did these days. The thin curtains shifted beside me and the call of a bird wove through the midday air. A shaft of whitish sunlight slowly walked across the floor. It should have lightened my heart to see the seasons turn and spring come again but it did not. Not much had eased the agony in my soul during the past thirty-six years. Or thirty-seven, depending on how you counted.

"When do you leave?" Mithrandir asked eventually.

I drew a breath and willed forth more words.

"Tomorrow, at sunrise. Glorfindel is of a mind to set some record but I have told him that not even he can make it to Mirkwood in one day."

Mithrandir chuckled and for a moment it was as if the room was brightened by it. His eyes were warm.

"I think it will do you good, Elrond, this journey."

"So my children say."

"Good. We form a united front."

I turned back to the window. Down below, a small stream was discovering that it could chatter again, now that its blanket of ice had broken apart and melted away and the frost no longer came to visit at dawn. And over the pale and curved rooftops, and the pine trees that stood sentinel on the slopes of the Hithaeglir, the dull shades of grey and brown clinging to the rock yonder would soon enough transform into a dazzling patchwork of greens so light and delicate it would appear almost yellow.

I had no desire to travel but could see no way out of this. In the south, wars and battles had plagued the lands of Calenardhon and Gondor for many long years and not a full year had passed since Eorl the Young had been sent from this world to join his forefathers, if that indeed was the doom of Men. The alliance between Rohan and Gondor was fragile and none could say for certain what would happen if it failed.

And worse, and more acute, at least to us here, was the darkness infesting the Mountains and the way its poisoned tendrils ever explored my borders. For now, I could hold it at bay, but I was drained.

I traced a darker vein in the wood with a forefinger. Eorl had been King of the Mark for thirty-five years when his life was ended. Almost for as long as I myself had lived in shadow.

I forced the memories aside but could not swallow my sigh. It was wrong, I was sure, to dwell on personal matters when there were so many other problems at hand. Perhaps my children and friends were right in their convictions when they said that I had seen far too much of the insides of these walls lately and that I still had much to accomplish.

Much indeed. For the world was darkening and the wind, this early spring, thirty-six years after my wife's departure into the West, carried no scent with it to Imladris.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Perhaps it was by the grace of the Valar – or perhaps it was sheer luck that kept foul creatures away. Perhaps those that crawled in the belly of the Misty Mountains were yet not strong enough or their numbers were too few. Perhaps it was my guard and the way that sunlight and starlight gleamed in armour and sword hilts and pommels; fell beasts in the service of the Darkness had ever trembled at the sight of the pebbles and glimmering rainbows of light cast upon the ground as those of the Eldar and the Edain that would challenge them rode through the lands of Arda.

Or perhaps it was because Glorfindel looked with suspicion upon every corner of the world as it unfolded before us. His wary gaze stalked the roadside from the very moment we entered the foothills of the Misty Mountains and during every heartbeat that took us through the Pass and down the eastern side his head turned like a banner in a fickle breeze. If he slept, or even rested, I saw it not.

Dawn broke and washed the skies in rosy hues. Truly, it had ever been a wonder to me how each spring could feel so new, even though I had wandered this world for nigh on six thousand years. But the Elves take pleasure in the beauty of nature and our souls sing in tune with the song of Eä, which is the centre and all, and the glory of growing things never seems dulled to us.

And yet, as I beheld the clear sky above me, and though the air here was fresh to breathe, in that hour I felt none of this and song never came into my heart. Therefore, I turned my face away and looked again to the stony path we were following. The sound of gravel and shingling crunching under the weight of hooves was crude and without melody. Even so, I lost myself to it and did not feel the gentle touch of sunlight as it reached us, and our pace was slowed.

I knew Glorfindel would have preferred to make this journey swift and be done with riding, and safe in Thranduil's kingdom ere tomorrow's nightfall, but I was dragging this out for him. He mistrusted this spring and for one who had so adamantly argued for my inclusion in the party, he now behaved as one who would have opted for me to stay at home had he been given a second chance to speak his mind.

He drew closer to me now, now that the Mountains were falling away behind us and blended with the horizon and Anduin's yet barren fields spread out around us as a threadbare blanket. He nudged his mount to match his pace to mine and the light chink of his armour sparked a note among the general clatter of hooves.

"There." There was a grimness to his voice, even as the timid sunlight glanced off his fair hair and made it gleam. "The Ford."

I lifted my gaze to follow his. I moved my reins from my left hand to my right and nodded.

"We cross there and follow the River north." I shot him a glance and found sternness and the ability to lead somewhere within me. "_The River_, not the woods. There is a wild force guarding those fields and we would do best to not disturb it."

The Ford was easily crossed and as I had commanded, we skirted the edges of the River until I deemed it safe to draw closer to the dark green shadow that stretched in the distance. The sun was circling towards noon and if it had not been for the wind, it might have had the power to warm our faces. But beneath us, the grass was dry and so also the ground, and our horses kicked up billowing clouds of dust that shrouded us as if in veils as we steered eastwards.

We had not ridden for much longer when Vaeglin, member of my personal guard, rode to my side. He was sharp-eyed and used words sparingly, but now he was frowning.

"My lord Elrond," called he, and the wind whipped his words high into the air. "Do we ride through those woods?"

As I beheld the brooding treeline a strange sensation settled in the very depth of my being. It was now long – very long indeed – since I had visited that place and though tales of the darkness that dwelt there abounded, I had not thought it so fundamentally changed. Grim it looked, and unwelcoming, as it spread out before us. High grass grew in thick tufts at the feet of the forest and the blades of grass were sharp-edged, I thought.

"_That_ _is_ Mirkwood," Glorfindel called back to him, from my other side.

I glanced over at my Captain. His golden hair was tied back from his face with several small braids. He always rode as if he took pride in his riding. And, I supposed, so he did, and rightly so. I attempted a smile at his suspicion for in times past I might even have laughed at him, and I did not wish to be so changed. But he would not smile back; there had settled a tightness in his jaw and a hard gleam was in his eye.

"It is aptly named," he added, and his mouth was thin.

We made a last halt before the jagged line of trees that jutted out into the undergrowth; like bony fingers their roots raked the matted grass and the moss that clung to the bark in patches was thin and a watery washed-out green. By now, clouds had drawn in from the south and seemed keen to catch up with the westering sun. There was a restlessness among the horses and among my soldiers, and though they spoke not I saw their gazes, travelling up the twisted tree trunks and oddly bent branches. In Imladris the first buds were only just emerging, but here, on the border of Thranduil's realm, spring seemed to have already been at work for some time, and the grass lay long and tangled.

I took a step closer, and then another, towards the forest-gate and the path that I knew lead in among the trees and which would, eventually, bring us to our journey's end. There was ivy too, of a dark green kind that looked almost dusty, crawling up the stems. Here and there were blackened blotches staining the leaves.

"Blood, my lord?" Vaeglin came to stand beside me. There was more than a hint of reluctance about him.

"Nay," I shook my head. "Though I admit it was my first thought, too." I bent down and an old, musty smell rose to my face, but the leaves were cold to my touch, and dry. "Some mould or other, I would say."

"My lord…" He was shorter than I was, eyes grey as granite and dark of hair. "I do not like the look of these woods."

"You have seen only a fragment of them yet." I straightened. I could tell that I had not particularly eased his worries.

"Elrond!" Glorfindel was already fingering his saddle, eyes on the western sky. "How long to Thranduil's caves?

A new breeze, thin and cool, floated over the grass. It would be a good thing to get out of its way.

"How fast can you ride?"

It was, of course, the wrong thing to say. Though I will admit I found myself vaguely amused by the way that Glorfindel waged war on the narrow path threading through the gnarled oaks. With no objection, I let him lead my company over the threshold and into Thranduil's realm, scowling and obviously distrustful of every shade of green and grey and brown around us.

The Forest was quiet. Utterly quiet, and still. I supposed that Thranduil still permitted hunting in his woods but I could not imagine that game was plenty here, at least not in these parts. The deeper into the forest we rode, the more dimmed the pounding of our horses' hooves became, as if the ground below us was drinking up the sound they made. And after a while, my guard fell mostly silent as well – any urge to voice their thoughts seemingly simply dispersing into the oppressive density of the air. Even Glorfindel, just ahead of me, sagged a little upon his steed, his vigour quite lost.

It was neither cold, nor warm, and though the day was waning the light appeared never to shift. Half unconsciously I pulled at my cloak where it had fallen behind my back and dragged it back over a shoulder. I could spot no sun in the flashes of sky that occasionally broke through the compact leafy canopy overhead. There was no wind. I felt the movement of the beast I rode but as if from a distance. Here and there along the path the earth was upturned as if someone – or something – had been at it. At one point I was about to remark on it but the impulse to do so was gone just as quickly as it came to me.

The long grass grew snarling around the trees and was sprinkled with tiny, pale, almost translucent white flowers, like snow-stars, but much smaller. And it was not until sometime later that it occurred to me that if I could make out such details we must be riding slowly indeed. But I did not mention this either.

We rode on, but at some point we halted. Quite simply because we must. The night had darkened and the horses were tired and I felt as though I was turning into stone. So we made camp by a brown bitter brook and not even Glorfindel argued as we dropped down onto our bedrolls and tried to connect once again to the growing things around us, and failed completely.

A wood should be swaying and a brook should be giggling. There should be moonlight and starlight and fresh air to breathe, but Thranduil's woods were nothing like this. There was some murmuring among my soldiers but it soon died out and I found that I had not a word I wished to speak. Instead, I retreated inside myself, to that now-familiar void that filled me in those days and never showed signs of ceasing to exist.

When elves come together by bonding a unique link is created between them. It is a connection unlike any other. It does not mean that we may read each other's thoughts word by word, as supposedly is assumed among some Men and Dwarves – it is more complicated than that and yet so much simpler. It is a soul-link, of sorts. The eternal presence of the other within yourself, as your heart is opened to the other. Marriage, then, is a formality – the proclamation of the joining of two houses or families. It is often done as a sign of good faith but it is not necessary, for bonding among elves is a sacred act and none who is not willing can go through with it with their _fëa_ unharmed.

I had never given a severing of such a bond much thought ere I was subjected to it, for I had had little reason to ever contemplate such suffering. But when my doom was brought upon me, and she, after her torment and in her grief, begged to be released, I was left echoingly empty. It was, simply, as if all that I had once been was utterly extinguished.

And that memory – of her tear-filled eyes and pleas – was what I brought with me into sleep that night, and it was heavy in the stale smell rising from among suspicious trees.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As if my wits were dulled by the heaviness of the air, I lost count of the many nights and days we spent among those silent trees. The path we followed wound its way through the forest which cared little – or not at all – for our comfort. Daylight was poor and wary, and warier still were the nights during which we saw no moon and no stars. We ate sparingly and drank only a few mouthfuls of clear spring water from our waterskins each time, and though the taste of home should have cheered us, in truth, it made only a small difference. Eating and drinking, then, became no more than a way to mark the passing hours, and they were grim.

The only time when I found my head clear somewhat was when the path ran into a stream and we found that we must ride over a narrow bridge. Its poles were hewn out of some weather-worn, whitish wood. I wanted to speak in that moment and order my guards to not touch the dark water for it had a foul look and a murky smell rose from it to twine around our horses' legs, but the words never left my lips. But we passed over the water without incident and into a new dusk.

By dawn a sticky mist had seeped into our cloaks and tunics and was weighing them down. Elves are generally not susceptible to neither damp nor cold, but I shuddered as I fastened my bedroll to my saddle and wished for a cloak twice as thick.

Still without any unnecessary talk we mounted up and continued our journey which proved just as dreary as yesterday's. The first shades of evening were settling around us when someone ahead of me finally called out. The ground soon began to rise softly and the trail broadened. I sat up a little taller and the air gradually felt lighter to breathe, and there was something through the trees that caught my eye: if I had not fallen into some dream-land those were truly lights ahead.

"Elrond?" Glorfindel glanced over his shoulder. He looked wan in a way I had never seen him before. "What is this place?"

It was as if I could taste secrets in the night. I renewed my hold on the reins and tried to coax some ambition into my heart.

"We shall see."

The path led us over a small rise and from there it flowed into a long and smooth stone bridge, wide enough for three lines of horses to ride abreast. And there, finally, across the bridge, stood the gates to Thranduil's home.

Here grew beech trees and they arched above us, dwarfing us, until I could imagine the press of them to the crown of my head. Glorfindel called a halt and our company fanned out before the bridge. I could see no guards but that did not mean we were not being watched.

"My lord." Glorfindel indicated that I should accompany him first across the bridge.

The rest of my guard followed without comment or question; these woods had definitely curbed anyone's desire for debate.

When we were halfway across the bridge the guards appeared. It was an old elven trick: neither Man, Dwarf nor Goblin could ever steal into your path so soundlessly. And though I well knew the art of it, it still saw me straighten in my saddle. In one moment our way was clear, in the next the faint glow of torches near the gate slid off a dozen arrow points, and a sharp call shattered the stony silence:

"Who comes to the gates of the Elvenking?"

With a nod at him, I offered to Glorfindel the honour of announcing our arrival, and his voice carried loud and clear in this windless place, as if he had finally roused himself:

"Elrond son of Eärendil, Lord of Imladris."

His words were met with silence and instead there came a faint murmur from my own guard, and I recognised the dissatisfaction among my own companions at the lack of a proper response to such an announcement. But if they had expected trouble they were disappointed. For even as we approached, the great gates began to swing open and soft but uneven lamplight spilled out into the deepening dusk. As we drew nearer, the arrowheads were lowered and the Mirkwood guards melted away, back into the looming trees.

"A silly show," muttered Glorfindel, and his jaw was sharp in the capricious light.

I found a smile for him, but I said nothing for I was certain that we had not seen the end of it yet.

o.O.o

He was seated. His long robe trailed over the elegantly carved wood of his throne and firelight from several directions illuminated his face and flickered in his golden hair. A delicate crown of slender branches and the first blossoms of spring rested atop his head but there was little softness about him otherwise. He sat perfectly still and only when we had come before him did he stir.

"Elrond. It has been a long time."

"Thranduil."

It had indeed been a long time and I had forgotten, I realised in that moment, the peculiar sense of unease that this elf always woke in me. I did not know his exact time of birth and in his power were means to make me doubt.

He was beautiful and challenging, with an aura of coolness and detachment that had possibly come with old age. But he was also ever quick to anger and I knew that under the calm surface much that even I could not decipher was simmering. Meaning, in fewer words, that he was quite difficult.

I studied him in that space of silence. Thranduil of Mirkwood was, on closer acquaintance, not exactly easy on the senses.

Then he smiled. Almost. And he lowered his chin just a fraction.

"I welcome you to my realm."

His eyes were grey and glimmering, darkened by the approaching night and the sinking of the sun into the western seas, and now they fastened on Glorfindel.

My Captain, half a step behind me, gave a slight bow. "It is an honour to see the Greenwood…"

"Do you know what Men call it in their tongue?" Thranduil cut across him, not quite smoothly but not harshly either. His lip curled in distaste and he did not wait for a reply. "They call it '_Mirkwood'_."

I inclined my head just a little. I was quite willing to spare Glorfindel for a while.

"It has been called this for over a thousand years…" said I.

"Even so, it disgusts me."

He rose, fluid and luminous, like my own Valley-pools under the starlight. "We will speak more on the morrow."

And with that, he made to retire.

o.O.o

Thranduil's halls were grand. The air was light to breathe and the underground caverns and walkways were vast and long and winding. In its own way the place was beautiful for it was of elven design, graceful and delicate, and the stone had been persuaded to bend to ancient love and knowledge of the earth. But never could I have lived there long. There were no proper windows, only shafts cleaving into the stone in places that made up a clever pattern. There was no canopy of stars, no curtains of rain, no whisper of leaves and no warming blankets of high summer sunlight. No snow and no Moon.

Our rooms were spacious and immaculate. There were fires in the hearths and my bed was large, with a frame carved from a deep brown wood and decorated with a raised pattern of interwoven leaves. Glorfindel first inspected my room and then his own, and when he voiced no concern but stayed silent, I knew I was quite safe.

When morning came, even after a full night's sleep and with the light of day coming in through places in the ceiling, I suddenly longed again to lie down and just for a moment sink back into myself. Into matters that were simpler but at times seemed just as dark as the threat that was creeping back into the world.

But there was no such grace as this was not that kind of visit. I washed my face in cool water that made me think of pine trees and I dressed in new breeches and a long, fitted kirtle my daughter always told me I should wear more often – and not only, or so she claimed, because it just so happened to have been her gift to me on my last begetting day.

I smoothed out the indigo wool, so lovingly and carefully dyed. It was soft and slightly gleaming in the morning light. I redid my braids and wondered if Arwen would have smiled at me now. Smiled and encouraged me, and once again tried to persuade me that her father was a handsome elf indeed.

Not that it mattered. I drew a deep breath and tried to find the beating of my heart – the flicker of life within me that kept me on this side of the threshold to the Halls of Mandos. For it was that in the past thirty-six years, this had become increasingly difficult.

I closed my eyes and exhaled and was just about to draw another long breath when there was a knock at my door.

Glorfindel was already waiting in the hallway and his eyes were wary but he looked a little more relieved when I presented myself to him whole and hale. It was long since any of us had dwelt as guests in another's home and Glorfindel appeared as unused to this as was I.

We were conducted, over slender bridges, to a hall set elegantly into the stone, and here also light shone in to chase around the curved walls. It was a dining hall and we found that a generous breakfast had been laid out for us. Of Thranduil there was no sign and the servants spoke not of their King and so I did not ask.

"Thranduil keeps to himself it seems," Glorfindel remarked under his breath, once we were seated. "With any luck he has forgotten about us."

I raised an eyebrow at him and his lips formed a thin line.

"I did not much care for his tone last night," he explained. "Indeed, he seemed quite soured by our arrival."

"It was ever his ways," I said quietly. "But you must not voice such thoughts, my friend. Not in his own halls."

"I have known kings, good and bad," said Glorfindel, and in his eyes flashed the memory of a past not even I had seen. "I am weary of them all."

This brought out a smile in me. "You are lucky then that I am no king."

"Aye." But he too smiled and his face was softened, and so also his eyes as he beheld me. "And nay, for I would serve you, Elrond, even if you were king. And High King at that, of all the Elves who remain in Arda. That has always been my promise to you, though maybe I have never worded it as such, for it was never my poetry I was known for."

I nodded then but felt in my gratitude a deep sorrow for my heart was closed and such words should be met with greater joy than I was able to conjure.

"And so I am the lucky one," I told him, simply.

"Well…" He broke into a sudden laugh and reached for a basket of bread. "We shall see. You may rethink your words ere this day is done, for I foresee that our host shall grate on my patience."

"Then you had better hold your tongue," I advised him.

His blue eyes glinted merrily at this and he tilted his head to the side.

"Alas," said he, "as you are well aware, neither for that particular skill, unfortunately, am I known."

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Peace did not reign for long.

Thranduil's study was spacious and his ceiling high and vaulted. He was already waiting for us, uncrowned but watchful. Just by looking at him, I knew a long day lay before me.

A set of chairs stood arranged before the hearth and they were low and cushioned. The silk was a challenging shade of green, like fresh birch leaves ere midsummer. To these he showed us and we sat, but he still held his chin high. And he wasted no time.

"What is it that brings you here, Elrond?"

Pale light flowed into the room from a far-off corner but I would have liked more; there was no way of knowing if the sun was shining and we were to debate dark things.

"It can be no great mystery to you," I began. "There is unceasing battle and strife in the south. Ever some new wave of foes comes to the thresholds of those lands. I have spoken with Mithrandir who has journeyed far and wide. He is quite certain that the true Enemy is stirring."

To this, Thranduil said nothing though the gleam in his eyes was sharp.

"Imladris is yet free of any such influence," I went on, unwilling to allude as to why this was so. "But news comes to us from over the Mountains and Círdan sends us such tidings as he thinks will interest us from the the Grey Havens. The Dúnedain, as well, serve us in this matter."

"That ragged line of wild men?" Thranduil snorted. "It is a tattered hope they cling to. Ever I thought you too generous, Elrond, to open your arms and halls to them."

"I am not come here to discuss Imladris' dealings with the Dúnedain," I told him, and beside me Glorfindel shifted in his seat.

"You should." Thranduil's lips curved in distaste. "For I perceive in you a desire to speak of allegiances and by your willingness to devote yourself to that tribe you are putting your faith in Men. Have Men not always disappointed us?"

"As we have abandoned them, and shunned them."

The twist of his lips broke into a cold smile. "We are not alike."

"We are children of the same source," I said tersely, and I could not have said how the conversation had spun out of my control so quickly.

"Aye." He inclined his head. "Yet are we not the Firstborn?"

"Little does that seem to matter to the Enemy," said Glorfindel, and his voice held an edge. He sat up straighter. "Given the chance, He will slay us all, Elf and Man alike."

Thranduil stretched his legs out and lifted one to cross the other. His robe looked light and it shimmered of a silvery-green as it fell around him.

"Speak plainly, then," he told me. "Present your plan."

"There is no plan," I admitted, striving to keep the weariness from my voice. Where my heart sat in my breast, I felt only a deep echoing ache. "But there is great need for us to stay united and close our hearts and minds to the fell whisperings and the deceit of the Darkness. We have been ruined before by treachery."

"United you say… Elves and Men…" His eyes narrowed. "No doubt you would see us ally with the Naugrim too?"

"They are not the Enemy."

Again, he snorted. "No doubt you would have preferred to see the dwarves still kings of the Misty Mountains? Perhaps you think they would have held the Shadow at bay?"

I shook my head. "Khazad-dûm is long abandoned, and why precisely, we do not know. That is an old debate."

"Perhaps not abandoned. It is true that the trickle of gems and _mithril_ out of the Mountains has slowed almost to a stop, but does that prove the dwindling power of the dwarves?" Suspicion was leaking into his eyes, even as he spoke. "Perhaps they are digging and delving deeper and deeper into the roots of the rock, multiplying as they dig, growing in numbers. What is to say that they have not foreseen the threat and have already formed an alliance with the Enemy. No need then to trade your goods with elves and men."

Glorfindel's – and I saw his temper in his eyes, on a leash ready to burst – voice was tight:

"The dwarves are in no conspiracy with the goblins. This is folly, Thranduil."

"Goblins or worse."

"Dwarves have fled the Mountains as elves fled Lothlórien," said Glorfindel, blue eyes uncompromising. "What does that tell you? You are _lucky_ that Celeborn and Galadriel took up rule there when no one else would and brought peace to that land."

But Thranduil sat forward. "The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood are lost in dreams in their newfound realm. _I_ am a pragmatic. _I_ fight the servants of the Enemy while Celeborn and Galadriel swim in their webs of visions and whispers."

And Glorfindel stood, the light from the far-off corner seemingly collecting to explode in his eyes.

"As well you should! These are _your_ lands, Thranduil. _Your_ responsibility."

Too late I was in rising. Thranduil was already on his feet, his sudden ire like the razor-sharp slash of a winter rain:

"Think you truly that I know not this? Think you that I rejoice at the black wound which festers in my own wood and which devours those who would seek to destroy it?"

I stepped forward then and placed myself between them to break apart the tension if I could.

"Have you looked into this darkness?" I asked, as calmly as possible. I kept my back to Glorfindel.

When Thranduil's eyes settled om me, they were burning with a cold fire.

"We have not," he said, and his voice sounded clipped. "We have not looked into its core but I know its purpose. You seek allegiances, Elrond. I would tell you that Lothlórien would be wise to support _me_."

Glorfindel was stepping around me and there was a harshness along his jawline that reduced his voice to a hiss:

"You speak of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien with revulsion, Thranduil. And yet clamour for their aid. But which greatness have you achieved yourself since the War of the Last Alliance when anyone outside your own kingdom last saw you with a blade in hand?" A dangerous glimmer was in his eyes. "You retreated _here_, to _your_ halls, and left the fate of Middle-earth in the hands of others."

And in Thranduil's shoulders now showed his disgust with the accusation and rage smouldered around him. "_We_ fight the wretched spawn the Darkness spews forth!"

"_We_ hunt. _We_ fight!" spat Glorfindel. "Since they were born the sons of Elrond have drenched their blades in more black Orc blood than you have ever seen!"

"_Glorfindel!" _

My voice cut like a whip through the chamber. The sound of it rang through us all.

I could see his jaw working, as if he was actively biting back his defence or further accusations, but then he gave a curt nod at me and I found that I could draw another breath. I let it out slowly.

"We must work together," I said. "There is no other option. If there is to be a war…"

Thranduil, too, seemed to have restrained his ire but he grimaced. "War is upon us already, Elrond, whether you see it or not. There is no true peace in these parts of Middle-earth."

I shook my head. "War, Thranduil, bears a different face."

"Does it?" Again, his piercing gaze locked with mine. "_Does it? _How can you tell, safe as you are behind the Hithaeglir?"

And I felt – just as I felt a deep weariness shift through me – a new twinge of frustration, and I said:

"Need I remind you that fell creatures are returning to Cirith Forn en Andrath? The Pass is now beset with shadow, and on my doorstep. But_ while_," I raised my hand to stave off another argument before it could take shape, "while we work _together_ we also look to our borders. My sons patrol among my soldiers and they keep no truths from me. Look to yours, Thranduil."

At my words, something drew over his face and though it was fleeting, like a sudden gust of wind, it changed something in him. It was a moment of a nature I could not name. When he again spoke, there was a strange quality to his voice:

"My borders or my sons, Elrond?"

"Both, I suggest."

"As you have observed already, my lord," Thranduil inclined his head to Glorfindel and succeeded in making it look almost as a show of deference, though his eyes told a different tale and there was a venomous bite to his voice, "I look to little else."

There was little reason to continue that day, I knew, and so we left it there. Thranduil stood with his back to us as we exited and the door was closed behind us. In silence we made for my chambers and only when we were alone did I turn to my Captain.

There were lines of anger still in his face and a marble-like coldness about him. But he did not shy away from me.

"Forgive me," I began, "for speaking harshly to you in front of him. Yet there was not…"

But he shook his head and the anger passed from his face. There was even a pale trace of a smile on his lips as he crossed my floor and lowered himself to sit on a reclining couch.

"Only you, Elrond…" He pulled at the string at his throat, parting the leather of his tunic a little. "Only you would apologise for disciplining a soldier who spoke out of turn."

It was true that I had taken no pleasure in chastising him in front of another and so utterly without the barest trace of humour, but I was also relieved that I had managed to silence him. By the simplest comparison I was a ruling Lord and he was not. And yet that did not make it easier.

"You are more than a soldier to me," I told him gently.

"Even so." He looked up. "You were right to do so. Forgive _me_. I did not seek to quarrel with Thranduil."

I raised an eyebrow at him and now the twist of his mouth truly came to resemble a smile.

"Well, not so soon," he admitted.

"Listen," I said, perhaps too easily sliding into seriousness at his flippancy. "We both know his temper and his position. You shall come to know even more of his opinions in the days to come – much more. If you do not stay your anger–"

"I will stay my anger when Thranduil exercises some intelligence."

"We must unite, Glorfindel."

"Aye…" He sighed. "And you will unite us, Elrond. Of that I have little doubt."

But I was less confident. For though it seemed to me that the world was slowly closing in around us and that we had been naïve during the years of the Watchful Peace and should never have allowed ourselves to be lulled into passiveness, I could find no fire in my heart to guide me. The desire to fight, I feared, had long since left me.

"Do you ever wonder," asked Glorfindel, his voice scattering my thoughts, "at the irony of this?" With a hand he indicated something I should see.

I tried to focus. "What irony is that?"

"How he can be so consumed with his hatred for the Dwarves and yet choose to live as they do, in these underground caverns?" And now there was a hint of humour, too, in his face. "I wonder if someone has ever asked him about that."

And suddenly I found that he had tricked me into a smile. "Well, you shall not."

He raised one fine, golden eyebrow at me and there was a dangerous smirk building on his lips. "Not today."

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 4

If you are following along, I do hope you are enjoying the story. Now, let us talk about a certain someone behind his back.

**Chapter 4**

Over the next days, our talks ran mostly like they had done just after our arrival. For many hours I argued for unity while Thranduil appeared most unwilling to offer any assistance to our labour beyond his own borders. And yet he was keen to see his own realm endure and on many occasions he would repeat his misgivings concerning the doings of the dwarves. Little love he had for them, and not much more for the Golden Wood or the Men who dwelt in Calenardhon and who were friends of Gondor.

Inevitably, I would circle our conversation back to darker matters. Yet there was little substantial evidence that could prove to us exactly where or when we should strike – or even if we should strike at all. Therefore, I could offer no elaborate strategies and I would give no voice to schemes that could be dismissed before they had been outlined too starkly.

Glorfindel heeded my orders to the best of his ability and did not provoke. If he found such grave fault in Thranduil's reasoning that it brought him to ire, he showed no sign of it and for this I was grateful. Glorfindel did not oft speak of his former life but sometimes I wondered if our debates seemed childish in his eyes. If at Turgon's court, there had been more dignity.

Though we spoke together for many days, at the end of our discussions they felt to me incomplete, as if something more should have been said. As if some truth or shard of evidence or thought lay just beyond reach, waiting to be discovered and dealt with. And so there grew in my mind a conviction that we were in need of the wisdom of the Golden Wood and the knowledge of the Istari. Perhaps, if I could not easily reach Mithrandir upon my return to Imladris, I should send word to Saruman, who was head of their Order.

It was this that I pondered one afternoon, after yet another round of debating in circles, when Thranduil surprised me. Glorfindel had already left and I had been about to lay my hand on the door when he spoke up anew:

"Elrond, hold."

It was not a question and yet as I turned to him I recognised a light almost akin to uncertainty in his eyes. It did not run deep and it was more like the suggestion of a presence of something creatures more prone to introspection would exhibit, but it was certainly an unfamiliar thing in him and enough to spark my curiosity.

I inclined my head and waited for him to go on.

The peculiar light in his gaze made me wonder if he were evaluating my capacity. Then his shoulders dropped just the width of a breath, and he spoke:

"There is something… An issue I would like to discuss with you. It is of a… more personal nature."

Truly intrigued now, I returned to my chair, with the grey eyes never leaving me until I was properly seated. Then he half turned away, his sharp profile stark against the firelight that melted onto the walls.

"Tell me, Elrond, if you do not mind… Do you ever, with your sons, speak of… matters of the heart?"

"Matters of the heart?" I repeated, for I was unable to disguise my surprise.

His tone was clipped and somewhat impersonal. Maybe on purpose.

"Aye."

"No," I was forced to admit. "Such matters are," I spread my hands, "_private_. Elladan and Elrohir are well past such an age where you would discuss…"

"Never?"

I frowned. "No, I cannot recall any such talks between us."

"They are not betrothed or bonded?"

"No," I said.

It was true that I could have lost myself to speculation. For perhaps they would indeed have been bonded if Celebrían's torment had never been. If their mother had still lived with us and they had never been so absorbed by the hunting of the orcs, perhaps that would have given them the necessary time and peace of mind to find such love. But that was all guesswork and a play with possibilities that would never be and so I said none of this to Thranduil. And nor did I speak of the pain such fantasies brought down upon my heart.

"It will be if it will," I said instead, and I was relieved that my voice held. "They are the lords of their own fates."

"Hm." The King's lip curled in an unnamed emotion.

"Thranduil, if I may ask, what is your quandary?"

There was a moment of dense silence ere he spoke:

"It concerns my son. My youngest. Legolas." His jaw tightened visibly at the mention of the name. "I do not recall if you have met him."

"I think not."

Thranduil acknowledged this with a strained nod. "He is young, by comparison. Fifteen hundred years old." He paused, and then went on, "I see in him, and have seen, for quite some time, tendencies which worry me."

I leaned forwards a little as the familiar trickle of alarm woke in my breast. All too well I knew the fear of losing a loved one and Thranduil may be a tempest at times but if he or any of his kin were in need I was at his service.

"Can I be of any help? As a healer, I would–"

But my words were stayed by an impatient hand.

"It is nothing of the kind that requires healing." His mouth twisted. "No, it is… not anything like that."

"Very well." That was good, at least. I tried once more. "Then what is it that concerns you so?"

There was another space of silence.

"It is his heart."

"His heart?"

"Aye. I know my sons. My other sons, that is. I see in them what one would see in any male and it was always so. With Legolas, however, it is not the same."

Now a shadow had fallen across his face and he would not look at me.

"How so?" I asked.

"I watch him. And I see how his gaze does not follow the females. How he does not smile at them, but how he does so… at the males."

And once more the room fell silent but for the crackle of the fire.

"I see," I said at last, because I must say something and that was what came to me. Slowly, I laced my fingers together. "And you are convinced of this?"

"Of this, yes. Of as much. As for anything else I am uncertain."

While he sat unmoving and unable to face me, I thought back. I scanned the years I had seen come and go and tried to shake to life any rumours or tales I had heard on the subject. It was not much, I realised, and I was not sure that any of it would comfort him.

"Little is ever told of this," I began, "though there is always talk. But in matters such as these the distinction between truth and untruth is almost impossible to make. I would say that it is very uncommon among Elves, but not entirely unheard of."

He made no reply to this and so I went on:

"Have you neither males nor females in the Greenwood of this disposition?"

"How should I know?" He looked at me then and into his voice had crept a hardness. "I harbour no such interest in the private affairs of my people. They may live as they please for as long as they submit to my rule. But this is my son. And that is different."

I narrowed my eyes. "You would not accept it?"

But impatience was building in him and he would not be accused.

"It is not a matter of acceptance. It is his wellbeing that concerns me. As for securing my realm, I have other sons to succeed me."

"Thranduil…" Certainly, it was a side-track to our conversation but it called to me nonetheless. "Elves are leaving these shores. Need you truly to secure your kingdom here for yet another thousand years?"

"A curious question, Elrond." He rounded on me easily. "Are you of a mind to sail?"

I shook my head. "Nay, not so. It is not yet my time." I looked away as it welled up within and though I would have preferred to not speak of it, I owed him honesty after he had opened up to me. "However, I confess, that after Celebrían…"

And so, with her name, the air in the room changed.

He gave a curt nod, but no other reply as I gathered my emotions.

We had never spoken of it together and yet possibly it would have been wise. For it was that in this we were equals. Perhaps we could have learnt something from the other but it seemed to me now too late to examine wounds that were healing. Or should be healing, at least.

In the end, he cleared his throat. "In any case, it worries me."

I forced my thoughts back to the conversation we were having.

"Legolas is young, as you say," I offered, for I did not know Thranduil's youngest and perhaps that was indeed the cause of his ways, though, in truth, such reasoning had never been applicable to my own children. "He may yet change."

"He is not _that_ young."

His gaze was heavy on me and so I tried a different approach:

"Love is a gift from the Valar, Thranduil. I would think it wrong to deny it even if it…"

"I am not sure I am speaking of love, Elrond," he cut across me. "Love is not a couple of traded kisses after a few glasses of wine at a feast, with somebody you had not once looked to before."

Which was fair enough, I granted him that.

"Still, we have all been young… _And_," I hastily continued before he could make another remark, "it seems to me that our children are different from us. Theirs is a different world." I searched for the words. "The old world, as we knew it, is no more. These days the younglings bond later in life and live freer. We–"

"Bonding is a sacred act. It is the opening of the heart to another. We do not… _do_…" He visibly swallowed and to his jaw returned the tightness and it prevented him from finishing that sentence. "Without having bonded."

"No," I admitted. "Not in times past."

His repulsion was evident in his eyes. "You would allow your sons to…?"

This was a conversation I could never have foreseen. It was true that I had never spoken with my sons of these matters and, in this moment, I could not say why that was so. It was also true that I perceived among younger elves less of a need to wed early but I had never given such thoughts any deeper consideration. But though this shift in customs could potentially intrigue me, I was not keen to debate it with Thranduil and nor was I keen to delve into speculation on whatever company my sons entertained in their bedchambers. And far less comfortable was I discussing such behaviour in one of Thranduil's sons – an elf I had not even met.

Yet I had to make an effort of some kind for I could see that, beyond his harsh exterior, he was genuinely troubled and he was asking for my counsel even if he had not phrased it so succinctly.

"I trust Elladan and Elrohir," I said finally. "As for your son, what does it truly matter whom he loves?"

"Whom he beds, you mean."

"That too," I conceded. "From what I have heard, and it is fair to say that it is not much, among Men this sort of behaviour is more common. In some places at least."

"_Men?" _He spat the word at my feet. "You would equal _my son_ to a _Man_?"

I tried a pale smile. "I have not met your son."

The jest took him by surprise and though he certainly did not laugh, the very edge of his frustration was blunted. He let out a long breath and said:

"And nor will you. He is patrolling the borders with his brothers."

It was an elegant way indeed to remind me that Elladan and Elrohir were not the only sons serving their realm and it put Glorfindel – absent though he was – in his place.

"Forgive me, Thranduil, if I cannot advise you," I said honestly. "I have no particular experience with this type of dilemma."

"No…" He shook his head and whatever was left of his irritation dwindled in the face of my earnestness. "It makes no matter. But I would ask you to keep this to yourself."

"Of course," I assured him. "I have no reason to speak of this to anyone."

And this was the truth for I could never imagine that I would ever have reason to even think on it again.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was four days later that Glorfindel accompanied me to my chambers after supper and sank down into a cushioned chair with a sigh. I chose a chair opposite his and studied his face in the light of the fire. For thousands of years had I known him and ever had he been a source of strength to me. By my side he had stood, in times of war and in times of peace, and never had he wavered. But now some of the colour in his cheeks was gone and the light in his eyes seemed rather dulled.

"You are weary of this place," I said at last, breaking the silence.

"Aye," said he. "As are you. And I suspect Thranduil is weary of us," he added, with half a grin.

"Yet we have achieved nothing."

"Yes and no. You have brought the world to his doorstep. He cannot now continue to ignore it."

"Do not be so sure," I advised, "for I am beginning to think that nothing could ever sway him."

"Not even wine?" Glorfindel leaned back in his seat. In here, the silken cushions were a darker green and they reminded me of ivy.

"I should dearly like some more wine," he continued. "They serve it strong enough here but there is too little of it. And I should like to see the stars again, shimmering in clear night-skies and chasing the moon."

"They are just outside," I told him, with a smile. "The guards will let you out if you ask them, I think."

"It may be so," he said, "but I mistrust these trees and so I will not give them reason to whisper about me."

"Then I cannot help you."

I had spoken lightly but now he sat up properly and I could see that he was serious, and he spoke:

"Elrond, it is time we left. Let Thranduil come to terms with what you have told him on his own. I do not think he will bend to your will while you dwell under his roof. For that he is too proud."

"I wish it were not so," I admitted, even as I knew he had spoken the truth and I could just as well have been wishing for the mountains to replace the seas, and the stars to turn into fish.

Glorfindel echoed my thoughts:

"And I wish we had some wine… and that we were looking out over our pools and rivers and waterfalls in this very moment." But he did not smile as he said this, and then he continued:

"Elrond… I do not know if it is my place to ask but…" He briefly looked down and when his eyes met mine again they were softened. "Does it pain you to hear him speak so harshly of Men?"

I read in his face then all that he would not say aloud and I bowed my head. There, in the faint light of the lamps that wove uneven patterns on the stone walls that surrounded us, I needed a moment to find the words:

"It is a long time ago now."

His voice was gentle. "Long also is memory."

"It is true."

I looked up at him again and the years blended before my very eyes and I was cast back into a past that at once seemed brighter and yet even more sorrowful. For memory easily blends with the present in the minds of Elves and we remember all that we have ever seen and known. This, at times, takes the shape of a precious gift and yet can also, at other times, feel like the iron bands of a wicked curse.

I sighed. "I remember him well. He was a light to me, even as we were born into the darkest of days. But his choice was another than mine and long ere it happened I knew that we would be parted… His deeds were great."

"You are not answering my question," remarked Glorfindel, but there was no reproach in his voice, only kindness.

I shook my head. "Many men there were before my brother and many have come after him. They have been just and unjust, honourable and deceitful… Thranduil's opinion on Men has naught to do with Elros."

"It is so. But in your heart–"

I rose from my chair. In that moment I suddenly longed utterly painfully for my own chambers at home, for my own door to close in the face of any friends, however well-meaning. The stone around me felt to me so very dense, so confining, too impersonal and foreign. It was not the sanctuary I craved. I desired my own bed, my own balcony, the song of the flowing waters and the dance of the stars even if their magic was now muted to me. But to them, at least, I needed not explain.

At a complete loss, I closed my eyes and the truth spilled from me:

"My heart is no longer."

He said nothing at first. I only heard the soft rustle of fabric as he, too, rose and then I felt his arms around me. I had never fallen like this – weakened and lost my sense of direction – in front of anyone before. But Glorfindel's arms came to steady me and I was brought into his embrace, and I remained there for a long time.

When he released me, his eyes were free of pity and it was for this, I think, that I was most grateful. He kept his hand on my shoulder even as I struggled to find my breath again.

"Even if you do not see it, Elrond," he said, and he spoke in a quiet voice. "Even if you cannot feel it, I perceive hope in you. In your soul and in your heart. Nay, do not protest," he smiled softly, "for remember that I was born during the Years of the Trees, and I have seen both darkness and light, and the latter lives in you still."

"You make it impossible for me to argue," I said, when I could speak again.

At this, his smile deepened and his eyes acquired a familiar gleam.

"Then I am pleased," he said. "But I would ask of you to bring this visit to an end for I do not see what more can be gained from it."

"I will," I told him, and I lifted my hand to cover his where it still rested on my shoulder. "And thank you."

To this he did not reply but only nodded.

o.O.o

It took us another two days to settle enough of an agreement with Thranduil that I felt comfortable leaving. He consented to little but at last I wrangled from him a promise to not dismiss the counsel of Celeborn and Galadriel as it reached him and he did not appear to believe that this was the last time we would ever meet. It was hardly a plan but it might serve as a foundation.

He did not come to the gate to bid us farewell as we mounted our horses. Indeed, the last I saw of him was the shimmer of his robe and the young green leaves in his crown where he sat in his high chair on the dais. But I could feel his eyes burn into my back long after we had crossed the stone bridge that spit us out into the suffocating silence of the wild trees.

Glorfindel turned his head to catch my eye and maybe say something, but in the end he only shrugged. In that moment I found it hard to read him and so I turned my face away. I was disappointed with myself, I realised, for not having achieved anything more substantial. Surely, I should have argued my opinions with more fervour. I should have tried harder to convince Thranduil of the great peril that we would find ourselves in if the Enemy were to rise to full might again. But I was empty. There was, in short, no fire left in my soul.

Day and night replaced each other in that perpetual gloom. It was past noon, after several hours' slow riding when Vaeglin, at the head of our company, raised a hand and we dimly halted. He was given no time to speak before another voice broke through the compact silence:

"Halt! Who goes there?"

I drew a breath which only made my head heavier. The morning had been grey and from what little I could see of the sky it was overcast. To my right stood a gnarled oak with black ivy clinging greedily to its trunk and twisted branches. Its roots had long since burst through the ground and over them lay a scattering of small stones, and there was mould upon the leaves of the herbs that grew around it.

Now the sound of hooves upon the silent earth reached us and through the dull haze that seemed to lie around us I spied movement ahead. Glorfindel half turned his steed around and caught my eye.

"Whatever this is–"

"_Who goes there?"_

The path was narrow here and none of us was keen to leave it and test the temper of the undergrowth, but Vaeglin urged his horse to the very side of the track. In front of me, Glorfindel did much the same but there was a tension about his movements that I did not like. For myself, I knew I ought to draw myself up and lift my chin but I was weary of the lack of light and shifts in the air. It felt to me as if the trees sucked all life from me, even though they appeared almost asleep themselves. Behind me, I could sense the rest of my company moving, but no one spoke for now the first rider materialised on the road before us.

He was clad all in green, I saw, and there was a piercing distrust in his clear eyes. He had pulled his hair back but I thought it might be a dark brown, or perhaps even a shade of black. It mattered little, however, for more of a pressing issue was the way in which he regarded us, and there was no kindness in his face.

"What are your names and what is your business?" Where our own voices fell flat to the ground in this place, his seemed to ring through the thick air.

Again – and bless him – Glorfindel spoke when I found no way of doing so:

"This is Elrond, Lord of Imladris. I am Glorfindel, and this is our company."

The elf before us did not seem impressed and his mouth was thin and uncompromising.

"What business brings you here? Not many come upon this path."

"We had business with the Elvenking," said Glorfindel, and there was a tightness in his voice. "As for this road, we shall be glad when we have left it behind."

More Woodland elves appeared now ahead of us – plenty more. My attention was divided between the indignation Glorfindel's words had sparked in the unnamed elf and the two columns of riders that were swiftly forming up to bar our way, never minding keeping to the path. I was just about to finally speak up – to aim to soothe the burn Glorfindel's admission had caused and try for peace – when a call in a new voice stayed me:

"_Geril!" _

There was commotion as the twin lines of riders suddenly must rearrange themselves to make way for someone from further back. The lowest hanging branches swept over the Mirkwood patrol forces as they shifted to let a new rider through and for the very first time I thought I heard a rustle in the heavy leaves. Then the rider was before us and I knew not how it came to be so, but in that moment there wove through the air the mildest breeze and I found that I was looking at the Sun.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He rode a white stallion, and he rode in elf-fashion without a saddle, unburdened by any luggage as he was. I saw as much before that rare flicker of a breeze shifted the leafy canopy above and a curious sunlight fell to land in his golden hair. His face was bright with his smile and the deep green of his wear was not that of the stained ivy twining around the trees but another one – warmer and gentler, somehow. His boots reached halfway up his calves and they were brown and well-worn, and slung across his back was a quiver, heavy with arrows.

"Geril," he said again, "these are honoured guests." And there might have been a trace of reproach in his voice but it was almost lost in the melodious quality of it, and his words did not sting, I thought.

Geril gave a curt nod but this I barely noted for the new elf spoke again in his voice that sounded like a song:

"Lord Elrond," he said, and his eyes had already found mine. With my name on his lips he gave a slight bow. "It is truly an honour to meet you. I am Legolas son of Thranduil. I presume you have heard of him?"

His radiance overwhelmed me. As the breeze danced anew in the leaves, more of the brilliant sunshine shone through them and my thoughts tangled in it and I lost them completely. And so it was that it took me what must have been forever to realise that he had spoken in jest. But he saved me from myself by continuing:

"Please, my lord, forgive our harshness. It seems we have lost all sense of politeness and courtesy. But we are watchful and unused to visitors. These are troubled times."

"Indeed," I heard myself saying at last, and my voice felt awkward in my own throat. I had the time to think that this creature was nothing like Thranduil before I managed to gain command over my own tongue again.

"Your vigilance is commendable," I said, and so those became the first words I spoke to him.

It was as if, in the presence of the prince, the slumbering woods around us finally came alive. I had already heard the rustle of the leaves but there came now upon a new wind the scent of dewy moss and I could almost even taste the dampness that nestled in the long, knotted grass. A sliver of sunshine reached me too and it fell on the back of my hand to warm it. It pricked my skin, and sank into it, and blended with my blood. I drew another breath, suddenly so filled with life that it illuminated the dark depths of my heart. Staring at the son of Thranduil, I felt a stirring in my very soul.

But if he knew any of this, he gave no indication. In fact, at my words some of the brightness in his face was dimmed and his smile faltered.

"I would not seek to chase you from our woods, my lord," he said, "but cruel creatures dwell not far from here and in winter they sleep or spin their twisted webs in secrecy. But now, with the coming of spring, whispers say that they are waking yet again and coming forth, and they were always greedy. It would ease my heart, and my father's I am sure, to know that you are safe beyond the western border."

This was all Glorfindel needed to hear. So enthralled was I by Thranduil's son that I had well-nigh forgotten about him, but now he straightened in his saddle and the sunlight fell on him too and glanced off his armour.

"I thank you," said Glorfindel, "for your warning." Then he turned to me and determination had been reborn in his face. "Elrond?"

"Aye," said I, but although I knew we should be pressing on I found myself unable to do much more than stare at the prince.

But he gave a small nod and held up a hand in a signal to his own people. Behind him, and now with a minimum of fuss, the two columns of riders arranged themselves into a single line along the side of the track so that we might pass. Despite the shadow that had drawn in over his face he still appeared to shimmer like a radiant dawn and his eyes were still on my face. Eyes that, when I met his gaze again, seemed unable to decide whether they were blue or grey.

Just ahead of me, Glorfindel shifted the reins in his hand, anxious, I knew, to be off again. And so I finally forced my attention to him and nodded my consent, and it took no more than that for our own party to start moving. Only the Valar knew why my gaze – as if by some secret command – drifted back to the golden prince now only a few feet away.

Perhaps one of us should have said something but we did not. I rode past him, my eyes locked with his and the intensity in them drove the air out of my lungs. It was only when I had passed him and I picked my way along the line of Mirkwood guards that I found my breath again.

The dull chatter of hooves on the ground, the rush of wind through the trees and the sunlight that played in patches all around us confused my heartbeat. I tried to reach out, to connect to something other than whatever I was feeling, but there was a great rush of emotions moving within me. It was a warmth of some sort that rolled through my belly and up into my chest. Further up it flowed, through my throat, until it came to blossom in my cheeks and my face stung fiercely with a shade of heat that I had no name for. I looked away, into the crowded woods, hoping that Glorfindel would just keep riding ahead of me and find no reason to glance over his shoulder and see me like this.

For it was as if the wind had got into my head. There was a rush of sound and a cascade of light. It blinded me until I needed to squeeze my eyes tightly shut and trust that my horse would manage without my direction. Time picked up and spun me around and around, over the wooden bridge and deep into the misty secrets of the Forest; into a swirl of night and day I was lifted, until we finally emerged from the trees and into the high grass on the other side of Thranduil's border. Truly, I could not have said if we had journeyed for a day or thirty.

The wind was wild here and it snapped in Glorfindel's hair and brought vigour again to his movements. We thundered though the grass and an evening sky arched high and endless above us.

He shot me a glance. "We follow the River?"

And I nodded forcefully, for I found no way to speak. The day was dwindling into dusk and in the west the horizon was tinged with a pale yellow-green hue. The glow of the sky rolled over us as we set off towards the Old Ford.

In the west, the Mountains. In the east, Mirkwood. In my heart, something new.

o.O.o

The summer passed. There was sunlight and birdsong and laughter in my Valley, and so also at my table. And one day, as the stars were glinting in the velvety blue above and their light bounced off the surfaces of the pools, I surprised us all.

Supper was almost over and Erestor had raised the topic of music, which – in all honesty – never was his area of expertise. And so it was that Elladan saw his chance and made a remark. It was a simple throwaway comment, such an insignificant small string of words that afterwards I could not even recall it, but it made them all laugh, and me too.

It was not a laugh that I designed or fabricated to please them but a truly genuine one. With no preparation it simply tumbled out of me and drew their attention in an instant. Then there was a moment during which no one said anything, followed by another one during which everyone wondered if they should have. Then it passed.

But as the days gradually grew shorter again, and the green hues of my woods deepened and Anor's brilliance grew so ruddy that it transformed the water in my streams into molten bronze, I began to connect once more. It was the first time in the years since Celebrían's departure that I truly felt the gentle caress of late summer sunsets and the excitement of pale dawns as the first light of day toyed with the curtains in my bedchamber. It was a gradual change, a slow strengthening of a bond I had feared was eternally severed, and though I barely knew how to handle it, it lightened the weight of my heart and I discovered that it still remembered the old songs.

Then came the autumn storms and they battered us hard. Even here, shielded as we were by the peaks and walls of the Hithaeglir, the rains reached us and turned parts of the Valley into treacherous bogs. Silvery curtains of water fell from above and my rivers swelled to the point of exhaustion and parts of our gardens and terraces lay for a while submerged. Even my sons, who never did dread much, spent several restless weeks pacing the rooms of the house, obviously displeased with the weather and not daring to risk their horses for a ride.

For my part, I revelled in the splendid show of thunder and lightning, seemingly unable to contain my childish glee at finally – at last – finding a matching thrum in my veins as my land shook and shivered around me. I did not much mind the rain either, or the steely, imperturbable grey that was the sky for many days on end. Nor did the musty scent of sodden moss or layers upon layers of slippery mud disturb me as it permeated the house and apparently quenched everyone else's appetite at the breakfast table. While my family and friends scowled at the dreary daylight that seeped uninspired through the windows, I breathed deeply, filling my lungs to the brim with whatever change in air was offered.

Yet, amidst this cascade of colour and sound and smell, what thrilled me the most was the sight of the stars. In delight I scanned the heavens each cloudless night and sought Soronúmë and Telumendil; and I counted the stars of Menelmacar as he rose above us and strew silver into my waterfalls. Then I rejoiced and found again that traces of songs long forgotten – or so it had seemed – began to weave themselves into my soul anew.

It was true that as I lay in bed, awash in the glow of stars and moon, a knowledge grew in me that this was but a temporary bliss. That soon enough I would be faced with graver problems and mysteries so deep that it was foolish not to fear them. I might revel in the dance of the seasons but in the East grew the threat that had never shown mercy and never would. But even so the seasons turned, and, before I knew it, two years had passed.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Next chapter will be a few days late because I'll be travelling. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one and thank you ever so much for reading!

**Chapter 7**

**The year 2548 of the Third Age**

He had rinsed out his pipe but was making no effort to fill it. Instead, he took a sip of last year's summerwine, pale and golden, and the perfect memory of longer and warmer days.

"There are rumours," he acknowledged, at last, just when I was beginning to think he might not have heard me. "Gondor sleeps fitfully."

"Is this news?" I asked, but Mithrandir seemed not in the mood for jests.

"Gondor mistrusts the son of Eorl."

I, too, took a sip of wine. The fire crackled merrily in front of us, casting a warm glow over my study; it cared nothing for politics and for this I could envy it.

"With good reason?" I asked finally, though in truth there was no need.

"Of course not," he all but snorted. "Gondor is ever suspicious. And jealous, of the lines of Kings." His blue eyes glinted in the light of the fire as he looked up to meet my gaze. "We must give Gondor no reason to suspect…"

I inclined my head. For over five hundred years I had been fostering the sons of the chieftains of the Dúnedain, ever since Arahael son of Aranarth had been born here. It had stayed a secret from most throughout the years for the Men of the North were dwindling in numbers and only one of them had ever tried to lay a claim to Gondor and been turned away in defeat. Now they dwelt in the wild as Rangers, and secretive they were and often looked upon with great mistrust by others. Yet I still perceived in them some valour and I had in my keeping such of their great heirlooms as the Ring of Barahir and the shards of Narsil.

"Gondor shall not know."

"Good… Good." Mithrandir nodded and finally turned his attention back to his pipe.

"Yet…" I lifted my glass in the shifting firelight and watched it play in my wine. "Some of Gondor's nightmares may be justified. She has lost much and the Shadow looms ever over her. The Enemy will not be content with the destruction of Osgiliath."

"To be sure," he said. And though he seemed unwilling to dwell further on this particular subject, after a moment he went on:

"I did not think that I would be returning so soon to Rivendell. Indeed, I was far from here when I was encouraged to go back. But such is my task, it has always seemed to me: to rush hither and dither and speak in riddles."

"That last part I suspect might be by your own choice," I told him, and he chuckled, looking quite pleased.

"You at least have a taste for them," he said, and it was as if with those words came also a shadow that settled in his eyes. "Men, on the other hand, only have taste for direct orders and unembellished instructions, unless they are not specifically tasked with composing a song or a poem. And then they wield their quills as though they were battle-axes."

"And when you speak thusly of men, you speak of the men of Gondor?"

"Vanity and headless pride have long lain at the heart of Gondor." He snorted. "It is folly and worse! I fear there may come a time when not even my word is heeded by the Steward in the White Tower."

"Yet it is not time–"

"No," he agreed, and not without some heat. "Not for many long years yet, I think."

This made no change; the line of Elendil would continue to be kept secret from those who would seek to destroy it. The Stewards would yet rule.

"No," he repeated. The sudden derision was gone from his face and he looked ponderously into the fire. "Meanwhile," he added, almost as an afterthought, "Thranduil's kingdom shrinks."

I lowered my glass. "How do you mean?"

Producing a leather pouch from one of his pockets, the wizard proceeded to stuff his pipe full of something that smelled like strong tea and thyme combined. Not until he appeared content with his work, did he go on:

"The darkness that dwells in Mirkwood deepens and the creatures of shadow grow bolder. Thranduil's people are ever forced to retreat."

And so it was that – inevitably – my thoughts circled back to the last time I had seen those woods and I was embarrassed to discover that a most unwelcome heat briefly touched my face. During the years that had passed, I had come to realise that the sun-drenched memory of Thranduil's youngest held a strange power over me; I seemed unable to forget the radiance of his smile and his eyes.

I shook myself. "Thranduil told me that he had not looked into it. Think you that it ought be investigated?"

He rose from his seat to wander over to a window as he knew I did not approve of smoking inside my chambers.

"It was," he said, while pushing the curtain aside. "Five hundred years ago I entered Dol Guldur and fought the Darkness there. It fled, Elrond, before the Light. And the Nazgûl fell back into shadow."

He turned back to look at me and he appeared at once stooped and aged where he stood.

I did not reply at once. The years of the Watchful Peace seemed a distant memory now and whatever had been accomplished at Dol Guldur half a millennium ago felt like nothing but a pale thread in the tapestry of time. A false victory that had bought us precious time during which we had accomplished nothing but had given the Enemy the chance to grow His strength.

"Someone should speak with Thranduil," I said, finally, through my guilt. "If there is still evil in Mirkwood it must be uprooted and eradicated."

He shook his head and his grey beard caught the glow of the fire.

"I fear that a new attack on Dol Guldur would come too late now. Thranduil is perhaps wise to guard his realm so fiercely and abstain from provoking whatever dwells there. We have but rumours and whispers to go on, Elrond."

"You would allow the wound to fester, then, without our interference?" The Valar knew I had no desire for battle but I was also not sure the choice was in my hands.

There came a peculiar light into his blue eyes. "I perceive that it is not yet time. For this either."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you waiting for? What is it that you see, Mithrandir?"

"Only mist and dust."

This I dismissed with a shake of my head. "And if you were to tell the truth?"

"Only fools seek the truth," he said, but suddenly he smiled softly and into his face came a light unmarred. "In the flesh, we but mirror each other, in our impulses and dreams. Life, Elrond, is thousands upon thousands of reflections. Nothing more and nothing less. The utmost Truth lieth beyond Time."

I would have attempted to answer this but before I was given the chance, the shine in his face was dimmed; and he lit his pipe and leaned out of the window, effectively turning his back to me. "But you should travel to Mirkwood."

"I should travel to Mirkwood?" I repeated, as though I had not heard him correctly the first time. "To what end? It is not long since my last visit."

It was a while before he stood to face me again. Even for a wizard – even for Mithrandir – he appeared draped in mystery. He regarded me long and I could spy no clear message in his eyes. Finally, he spoke:

"That much is true and yet the heart of Mirkwood grows ever darker. We cannot allow it to corrupt its King. It is a matter of great importance that we are allied."

"He is not against us," I said. "Indeed, was that not the purpose of my last visit: to ensure that we stand together? Thranduil is proud and not keen to ally with the Noldor but he has not been corrupted."

"Fair words have been whispered by the Enemy before, into the ears of elven lords," said Mithrandir gravely. "Ever has He sown seeds of treachery and woven webs of lies. Much evil can come to pass in precious little time. It surprises me, Elrond, that you have not seen this threat for yourself." He peered at me intently. "Is your vision clouded?"

I opened my mouth to deny this but found that my dismissal of his suggestion would not easily form on my lips. My lack of response gave him time enough to take another puff of his pipe, and a thin wisp of acrid smoke chased out into the night.

"It is not clouded," I said, at last.

"You have not looked then."

"Portents and signs, Mithrandir… I do not tirelessly endeavour to know the future or see such things that take place halfway across Middle-earth." I could not say precisely why exasperation welled up within. I felt thousands of years younger, all of a sudden, uncertain and defensive – as if I were facing a most displeased tutor.

"There are those who do."

My own voice was strained. "Galadriel is gifted."

He acknowledged this with a dip of his head. "The soul of the Lady of Light has been battered. And yet she sees."

At his words, there was a stab of a twisted heat through my breast. As if on command, the memories came flooding back and I recalled how regal their anguish had been. How Celeborn and Galadriel had handled their own daughter's torment with such awesome grace that they had appeared nigh on unaffected. And how – to my shame – this had sickened me. Where I had desired nothing else than to hurl my rage at the heavens, Celebrían's own mother and father had seemed to float through the pain shrouded in starlight. It was most unfair of me for I knew that they suffered as I did but I never once saw it.

"I have seen it," I forced out, my lips tight around the words. "I know of it."

To my surprise, this caused him to smile wryly. "I have angered you. That is good."

"Forgive me, Mithrandir," I said tersely. "I have no taste for your games this evening, it seems."

He neither dismissed nor acknowledged this. Instead, he took a final puff of his pipe before leaving it on the windowsill and then he came to resume his seat beside me. His blue eyes were sharp in the dancing firelight. He made himself comfortable ere he spoke and his words were not at all what I had expected:

"You _live_, Elrond. The light shines again in your eyes and I perceive it, too, in your soul."

I could not deny this, even if I in some silly fit of rebellion – still somewhat lost among the memories he had forced upon me – perhaps would have liked to try. Yet he was right. For I could _feel_ the grass beneath my balcony bowing in the evening breeze and the way that the surfaces of the rivers shivered and rippled at that same touch. I tasted sunlight and moonlight on my lips, heard the song of the rain on the wind and it sang also in my heart.

Mithrandir chuckled as I tried to form a response that explained what I had not yet understood myself.

"It is true," I finally managed. "Though I know not how it came to be so."

"Does it matter?"

"Perhaps not," I allowed. I scanned his face once more. "This is why you are pushing me?"

He looked rather pleased at my question but replied quickly. "It is," he said. "I trust you now to turn your attention back to the lands beyond the Valley."

And he gave me no time to reply but went on, "It is of the greatest importance that we should all labour to withstand the onset of Darkness, not least the one that embitters Mirkwood. And therefore I say: travel thither, Elrond, and form such an alliance with Thranduil as you can, for I perceive that much good might come from it. And he will not come to you." He lifted his eyes to my face and the firelight glinted in them.

"Very well," I told him, at last, for I knew him well enough to understand that he would not be swayed. "I shall travel to Mirkwood and contend anew with Thranduil."

I did not miss his contented smile.

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**The year 2549 of the Third Age **

Winter came and went, and slowly ebbed out into a greyish-brown sort of state of in-between. It was too cold for the grass to wake and yet no more snow was driven across the high peaks of rock to fall over the Valley. The poor trickle of travellers increased somewhat as the days timidly lengthened but the chink of hooves that ran through the trees was mostly caused by my own people. As my heartbeat settled – it was lively as when it had just been reawakened after the long years of sorrow and yet less capricious and far more manageable – even I grew somewhat weary of the never-ending gloom. We bore the dullness as best we could, but it was true that the gleaming white spectacle of the winter past had done much more to lift our spirits. Time, it felt like, moved sluggishly indeed.

I did not forget that I had promised Mithrandir to once more travel to Mirkwood and speak with Thranduil. The idea that the Enemy might endeavour to offer him false promises and ensnare him in a web of lies and deceit lingered in my mind long after Mithrandir had left my house and set out north. It gnawed at me until I was deeply uneasy and yet I made no preparations for any journey across the Mountains. It seemed to me that while the land around us lay still and shrouded in grey, I could not move either.

It was on one such afternoon, when a heavy and dripping mist had rolled into the Valley and veiled the pine trees above us that my son dropped down into the sofa, careless of the colourful assortment of silk threads beside her.

"Elrohir!"

"What?"

"Will you not be careful?"

He lifted his head and frowned, appearing not at all to understand why he had upset her. "What for?"

And so they bickered for a while: my beautiful daughter with a scowl on her face and quite possibly ready to attack her brother with a needle, and my son, still in his dusty riding gear.

"But you hate embroidering," he protested, even as he dug out the spools of thread from between the cushions.

She lifted her chin at that. "It is not so – you have it wrong. I do not _hate_ embroidering."

So it was that they argued about that, too, back and forth for a while, until she was again settled with her fabrics and threads, and he had retreated to one of the armchairs. From across the sitting-room, Erestor lifted his dark eyes to me and gave me a look. And it was _that_ look, to be honest, the one which always brought me equal parts anguish and shame.

I turned my face away and attempted to resume my reading, but it was in vain.

_This is her home_, I told myself, and Erestor, in silence. This was her place, just as much as it was mine and her brothers'. It just so happened that she was the only female in the family.

_But this is nothing that bothers her_, I silently argued against Erestor's unvoiced judgement. To my knowledge, she did not mind this. Never had she expressed a desire to wed and so have a family of her own, as I knew Erestor would prefer. And that was not because he disliked her or because he sought to rid himself of her presence. No, quite the contrary: he was less sure that she was happy here, stuck in this house with a father, two brothers, a Captain and advisors who all happened to be male. Arwen, was Erestor's opinion, could never fully bloom between these walls and so she needed to be married.

And I was the one who was required to navigate those waters. As I continued to feel the weight of his dark grey gaze upon me I missed my wife with an even deeper intensity. I was not sure Celebrían would have rushed Arwen to a line of potential suitors but perhaps she would have known what else to do. As it was, for as long as I hesitated to speak with my daughter on the matter, I would have to continue believing that she was truly happy, or I feared my heart would shatter anew.

"Father?" Elladan's voice broke into my thoughts. He had appeared in the doorway and was holding out a piece of rolled-up parchment. "A messenger come down from Hollin Ridge carried this. It was to be brought to you."

"Hollin Ridge?" Erestor frowned, and into his eyes leaked suspicion. "Who travels over the ridge?"

I got up and accepted the parchment from my son. Elladan, still in high boots was mindful to not step on the carpet.

"A dwarf?" suggested Elrohir, where he was half-lying in the armchair, looking much like he was of a mind to never again bother with battle or rain.

"It was a man," said Elladan, "but no Ranger as I know them. Dark of hair, he was, and fair of skin as the northerners, yet darker of eye. He was in a hurry, eager to find shelter further south before sunset, or so he said."

I examined the parchment. It bore a wax seal, simple and with no markings that immediately betrayed the identity of its owner. I broke the seal easily and turned the ink to the poor late afternoon light.

"What is it, then? Father?" Arwen had put aside her work and was eyeing me with curiosity, much like her brothers and Erestor were.

"Not dwarves, and yet dwarves," I told them once I had scanned the hastily scribbled note. "Word has been passed from the eagles to those of the Naugrim that dwell still in the Misty Mountains that a new band of orcs has come to defile the rock on the eastern side."

Erestor, when I looked to him, was grim. "This makes journeying perilous indeed," he said, "for it seems to me that the number of safe passes through the Mountains is dwindling."

"Aye." I rolled up the parchment. "It is so."

And yet I had promised Mithrandir that I would ride to Mirkwood. I pondered this as I returned to my seat and my book which I soon put aside. I was not afraid for I had met worse than orcs during my lifetime but that was now long ago and I was not keen to undertake the journey.

Elladan was moving along the edge of the carpet until he came to stand behind Arwen to look over her shoulder.

"Is that the fourth tapestry this season, sister? I thought we had no walls left to decorate." He grinned at the face she made. "Though it is pretty. I admit I had well-nigh forgotten what summer looks like."

And she too smiled, rather unexpectedly. "I will make what I please," said she, "and if we cannot yet have sunlight and green leaves outside our windows, I shall mirror their image indoors, in silk."

It was many hours later that I lay in bed with the shadows of night playing on my ceiling that I recalled her words. And then it came to me: the memory of sunshine in Thranduil's woods and the smile that had woken my heartbeat. I turned my face into my pillow as a gentle warmth captured my cheeks and though I tried I could not will it away.

My bed, always too large for only one person, felt cold and empty, and from somewhere beyond thought, a deep desire for summer welled up in my heart, and the longing for sunlight was suddenly in my very bones, and close to painful.

o.O.o

We set out many days too late for Mithrandir's liking. Indeed, it was not altogether unlikely that he would have chased us out of Imladris had he still been there. But at last we rode off, on a pale morning just after dawn, after another slow turn of the moon. Among my guards was Glorfindel and my sons I had left to rule in my stead. This would keep them, for a while at least, from further travels with the Rangers and might also be beneficial to their relationship with their sister, which was strained at times.

As the pine trees enfolded me, I endeavoured to push such thoughts from my mind. Long had I dwelt on this matter and ever had the solution eluded me. There was strong love between them, I thought I knew as much, but more often than not their words and intentions seemed to collide and tear gaps in their relationship and such rifts were not always easily mended. Perhaps it was that Erestor's counsel was wise and that Arwen would find peace and purpose with a family of her own. Or perhaps I should have sent her to Galadriel as once the Lady herself had suggested, but Arwen was my Evenstar and I could never send her away with a light heart.

We left the last of the trees behind and gave ourselves up to the mercy of the Misty Mountains and a land that lay as if sleeping. Silent it was and veiled in that persistent mist that would not thicken at nightfall nor dissipate by dawn. Grey walls rose high on either side of our path and even higher up, far above the proud and prideful peaks was the sky: pale grey and unfeeling. Glorfindel pushed on through the High Pass for fear of our presence drawing the attention of any beasts of shadow, but the Mountains spat us out on the other side unscathed. Sooner than I would have liked, perhaps, the dark line of trees in the distance began to call to us in unsettling whispers.

"It is a strange place, if ever I saw one," said Glorfindel grimly, as he drew up beside me. "I shall not rejoice at the reunion."

We had rested but for a few hours each night and yet I was inclined to agree with him; the prospect of a proper bed seemed grimmer if it stood under Thranduil's roof.

Yet, as the trees came closer – and they were oddly leafed and green in a spring that was otherwise dreary – in me stirred once more the memory of a bright smile and flaxen hair that shone in unnatural sunlight. And it came with even greater force this time, until I was forced to shake my head in attempt to free myself of it. Instead, I tried to lose myself in the song of many hooves around me, but I could not chase this thought from my mind: that I now both longed and feared to meet the young prince again. This became the only thing I could think of for a while and it troubled me.

Not much will I say about our journey through the Forest. Even though it was nearing noon the daylight was swiftly muted as soon as we passed in under the leaves and a chill rose up from the earth to wrap around our hearts. The thick oaks towered above us and pressed into us until we were forced to ride in a single file. Glorfindel, who rode ahead of me, turned to look over his shoulder not long after this and I saw that he was frowning. But we said nothing and it was not until we were nearing the stone bridge that I in any way felt that my mind was my own again. A hundred years could have passed since we left Imladris and I would have been none the wiser.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

If Thranduil was pleased to see us again, it was hard to tell. We were given the same rooms as on our previous visit and Glorfindel inspected mine before his own, much as he had done the last time. When we had washed and changed our clothes, we were conducted to a dining hall for a noon meal and then, before too long – indeed, before I desired it – I stood once again in the Elvenking's private study and his eyes were gleaming coolly at me.

"_Gondor_," he said, with derision lining his voice. "What do you want of Gondor?"

I could not have said how we had ended up speaking of this when all I had desired was to ensure that he kept the darkness in his own woods at a distance. But here we were and I drew another deep breath.

"Gondor is on the very doorstep of the darkened lands," I reminded him, echoing my own words at Mithrandir from yesteryear. "Left unaided and untended she could easily succumb to the lies and fell whisperings of the Enemy. We need our bonds to Gondor strengthened, and her allegiance."

His lips were a thin line. "And who would strengthen those bonds? Who will tend to her and cosset her when the Stewards fail? Your friends, the Dúnedain, perchance? Nay, the blood of Elendil has failed. You of all souls should know the weakness of the mortals, Elrond. They seek no friendship with us."

I held back what I would have spat at his feet if I did not require his support.

"It is true that Men have failed us in times past," I said instead, somewhat tersely. "But also they have stood by us, let us not forget that. There was great honour and valour among the Edain in the Elder days and the forces we could once muster are but a memory, Thranduil. Where once the blowing horns of Gil-galad would chase the winds, there is but silence now. We are dwindling."

Even as I spoke, I felt my anger recede and the old waves of sorrow stole across my heart. "The noontide of the Elves has long come and gone. We have not the numbers."

His gaze was cool. "Neither do they."

I opened my mouth to speak but his lips curled in a bitter smile. He would have spoken again if there had not come a knock at his door and an urgent summons.

I followed him for I did not know what else to do and he gave no indication. It was true that his study contained far less scrolls, maps and books than my own did, but most likely he would not have approved of me staying behind for he was secretive and distrustful. So it was that I went with him to his audience chamber where plenty of torches had been lit and many of his household had gathered. There was a fair share of servants, I saw, but the greater part of the crowd was garbed in the manner of his guard. Only a few spoke in lowered voices and they formed little knots by the pillars and underneath the high, slim window-openings.

Thranduil, with his robes flowing like starlight on water, forsook his throne this time and swept out upon the floor beneath it instead. And then he called out as if giving order and his voice rang clear and cold through the hall:

"Legolas!"

There was a ripple of movement among the onlookers and from one of the clusters of assembled elves, a figure stepped forward. Even in here, where it was hard to tell daylight from firelight, he seemed to my eyes to glow and something shifted in my chest and I swallowed tightly. It was quite enough to have to deal with Thranduil – I was not so sure that I had it in me to deal also with his son, I realised belatedly, and so soon at that. But as Legolas came to stand before his father, I fear I wanted nothing else than to watch him.

Clad in the greens and the browns of his home he was, and his fair hair was pulled back by several delicate braids. He moved with the elegance of the Firstborn and yet… there was something that marred his grace; his was not movement perfected. He held his chin high as he came to stand before Thranduil. Yet as he spoke I heard the strain in his voice and it was not the music I thought I remembered:

"Father."

"You are wounded."

I had to crane my neck just the slightest to be able to follow Thranduil's gaze but I saw it too: a savage tear in the green wool of his breeches and the darkened stain around it. Something had left an ugly mark on his thigh. At the sight, my heart twisted oddly and not at all aware of what I was doing, I took half a step forward.

"It is only a scratch, my lord."

But Thranduil was circling him and as he moved I saw that that there was concern battling frustration in his face. Yet he would not give way to the former and a shade of a blush awkwardly rose in the prince's cheeks as his father once again came to stand before him.

"There is a wound in your leg, Legolas."

"I–"

"Arrow or blade?"

The blush crept downwards a little until it flamed on his throat. "Blade, my lord. But just the very edge…"

"See it treated."

Legolas closed his mouth around whatever reply he had intended to give. Instead there was only dense silence in the hall. I looked from son to father and even as I knew I should not speak I heard my own voice break through the tension and drift out towards them:

"Thranduil… Perhaps I can be of service?"

He did not look at me but he did not need to, for his voice was clipped enough and his words dismissive:

"I have healers, Elrond. We are no strangers to battle in the Greenwood."

I bowed my head to this. "Nor is the Valley and healing is my craft."

Now Thranduil did turn his narrowed eyes at me and his gaze landed heavy on my form. There was a moment during which none of us moved and I wish that I could have said that I stood entirely steadfast before him, but in truth I felt a touch of insecurity wound its way through my breast. But then his mouth twisted.

"Very well. He is yours to practice your craft on."

Some of the tension went out of me and I was sure he saw it. To my eyes, his robes now rippled like oiled steel as he turned from us and his voice was equally impersonal when he spoke:

"Next time, Legolas, I expect you to exhibit some sense of self-preservation."

o.O.o

The healing chambers were situated on a lower level and they were low-ceilinged and sparsely decorated, and empty of patients and healers alike. I was shown there by one of the Woodland guards who did not waste any words in conversation with me. Other elves followed but if Legolas was among them I knew it not for I could not see him as I glanced over my shoulder, and no one made mention of his absence.

We came to stand in the middle of a gloomy room, fanning out almost in a semi-circle in front of the twin lines of simple beds. My guide bowed his way aside and then there was some commotion behind me, but before I had decided what I should be asking for, a new elf appeared through a doorway opposite the one we had entered through. He was the master healer, I presumed, though he appeared quite young.

Dark of hair he was and proud around the chin but his eyes were bright and filled with many questions. To his credit, he placed a hand over his heart and gave me a slight bow.

"My lord," he said, "it is an honour."

"The king has given me permission to treat the prince," I told him.

"The prince?" His gaze immediately left my face to search among the soldiers instead. When he failed to find what he was looking for he turned to one of his own people and there settled in his face a look of dislike. "Why was I not…"

But this was my domain, if not exactly my realm, and I found in that moment that I was quite weary of the pride of Thranduil's people, and therefore, before the healer had regained control, I cut across him:

"I will need supplies. And more light." I glanced around the room and quenched a sigh. "Indeed, plenty more light."

My words were followed by a small space of absolute silence but then they did as I asked. The master healer could have challenged me, I supposed, as I watched them light lamps and rekindle the fire which had been no more than a few pale flames licking aimlessly at glowing embers upon our arrival. But he did not speak against me and instead worked to heat some water and also hastened to fetch fresh linen bandages.

It was truly heavenly to find myself once again in command and given a concrete purpose. I was revelling in this feeling as more elves filled the chamber and only then it was that I understood that it was not only the prince who had been hurt. From what I could glean of wounds and grimaces, whatever had taken place among the trees had either been more than just a skirmish or the soldiers of Mirkwood needed better training.

He was one of the last to enter and he walked without aid even though there was a line of tension over his eyes. He settled on a bed in one of the corners where the lamplight did not quite reach. There was tension, too, in his shoulders, and of the type I did not much care for. Dissatisfaction played on his lips. In that moment, the memory I had of him felt to me as though it had come out of another world entirely, for there was only rebellion in him now and no sunshine shone as if through him.

And so it was that as the din rose towards the stone above, I approached him, and when I was close enough, I raised an eyebrow at him.

"My prince, if it was an orc blade that cut you, you will want to make sure there is no poison seeping into your blood."

He looked up then and I noticed that a small twig had snagged in his hair, just above his right temple. His voice, though still pleasant, was not the song I fancied that I had once heard:

"Have I protested?"

"Not with words."

His eyes were now the greyish-blue of the unforgiving skies this dismal spring and they came to fix on mine, and there was no kindness in the way he beheld me.

"Do you attempt to read minds, my lord?"

"No," I told him plainly, "but I have two sons of my own and they are no strangers to battle. So, you see, I am well-learned in the ways of obstinacy and the reluctance to submit to good counsel."

There was a space of cold silence before I saw the twist of his lips and thought I knew how he would scoff at me in the manner of his father. And it disappointed me even as I wondered why it should be so.

Then, suddenly, as if to prove me utterly wrong, Legolas broke into a smile and the tension rushed out of his shoulders and they dropped low. His smile was even slightly self-conscious as he motioned for me to come closer.

"Please, then. And forgive my rudeness, if you can, my lord."

I nodded and at the softening of his features I felt myself relax somewhat. Then I thought I saw a first glimmer in his eyes and when I was close enough to touch him, I found that I was smiling in return.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 10

Welcome back!

**Chapter 10**

In the end, even after I instructed him to shift on the bed, I had to find another lamp for the lighting was indeed poor. I wondered how anyone could ever hope to perform proper treatment in here but I kept these thoughts to myself and did not speak of them to Legolas.

He said nothing as I pulled up a stool for myself to sit on and then finally laid my hands on his leg and angled it towards the lamp. Then I paused.

I was no longer smiling. Indeed, in that moment I could not have said what I was feeling. I had treated others since Celebrían's departure. I had tended cuts and bruises and popped a dislocated shoulder or two back into place, and little by little it got easier. Yet it could not be denied that I had once failed when I had most needed to succeed. For though I had healed her body, I had not managed to heal her soul. She had assured me at the time that she held me blameless but my own shortcomings had been like cold iron bands around my throat and now a ghost of the old fear threatened to twist through my belly to rise in my breast.

Resolutely, I pushed it aside and then carefully nudged the wool apart to have a first glance at the wound. Bending over it I could see that Legolas had spoken truthfully before: it was a clean cut, not very deep and not at all dangerous. There were no signs of poison. The discovery came as a relief, greater than I could have anticipated, and my own shoulders fell with my exhale.

"Will I live?"

I glanced up. A strand of my hair had fallen over my shoulder and was brushing his knee. His clear gaze, now that he had done away with his initial resentment, was full of curiosity as it lingered on my face. I found I had to swallow before I could give him an answer.

"Yes. I do believe you will."

"Good."

His smile was relaxed now, almost gentle, and this made something flutter to life near my heart. It was also what made me straighten my back and remind myself of my purpose. I had offered my service, my skill and knowledge – I had not come to lose thought and speech before his face, however fair it was. Therefore, I steeled my heart against any such notions and cleared my throat.

"Do not take kindly to me yet," I warned him, "for I would like to clean the wound and dress it, and that will not be pleasant. After I am done, and in the coming days, should you sense anything amiss, you will tell me so immediately." I held his gaze as firmly as I could. "That means you will remain in your father's halls for three days, at the very least."

He inclined his head to me but his eyes did not leave my face. "As you command, my lord."

He sat in silence as I treated him. Rather than asking him to remove his breeches, I cut them open around the wound with a small knife and he did not object. Nor did he make any sound when I cleaned the cut and spread a salve into the tear in his flesh even though I knew it stung. There was a rise of tension in his body but that was the only sign of discomfort he showed as I prodded the reddened skin with light fingertips.

"I could set stitches about the wound," I suggested, as I finally looked up at him. "It is a practice more common among Men but it has its uses, I have discovered."

His brows were drawn together and there was a slight hardness in his jaw. It sharpened his features and made him look young and fierce and… so very young. He was pale but hardly weakened.

"Is that necessary?"

"No," I told him, honestly. "In truth it might be wiser to abstain from such treatment. If there was poison on the blade, closing the wound would lock it inside your body and before you became aware of it, much damage could have been done to you."

"But there was no poison."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Then again came that twitch of his lips that held every possibility but which simply melted into a smile.

"I daresay that you would never risk it, my lord. For I am the son of the Elvenking and if you truly suspected poison you would still be cleaning the cut." His smile faded and for a moment he appeared almost thoughtful. "Indeed, you would still be examining it. Smelling it, too, perhaps, and possibly even digging into me with a knife to remove any infected flesh."

"You are learned in the ways of healing, then?" I finally asked, when I found the words.

"Nay," he laughed, and the sound of it seemed to brighten the room and the melody I remembered found its way at last back into his voice. "Not so."

I caught the glittering of his eyes and it made my tongue heavy in my mouth as his smile would not falter.

"Bind it," he said lightly. "That will be enough."

"Very well."

I could not say what about him made me well-nigh fumble with first the knife as I cut more of his breeches open and then with the linen bandages as I wove them tightly around his thigh. The number of wounds I have treated are too many to count and the ones that have scared me the most have always been those dealt my loved ones. Yet the simple binding of Legolas' harmless cut caused my breath to come unevenly and forced my heart into an irregular beat no matter how hard I tried to remain unaffected.

Again, he fell silent as I worked, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on my hands and therefore it was a great relief when I was finally done and could rise to stand. Then he moved his leg a little and nodded.

"Thank you, my lord." He looked up and I saw that he had not stopped smiling. "I am very grateful."

"Your own healers would not have performed any worse," I admitted, for in truth I had not done much.

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But I enjoyed the change."

I ignored this for I had no reply for it. As a way to bring this session to an end, I lifted up the basin of water and the knife.

"Do not strain the wound unnecessarily," I told him, grateful that my voice was even. "At least one day's full rest would do it good."

"As you command." He inclined his head slightly and his grey-blue eyes reflected the glow from the lamp. Curiously, they appeared to me bluer now. "I shall stay in my father's halls and my presence shall test his patience."

I opened my mouth to protest but he slid effortlessly off the bed and suddenly we were very close.

"Nay, speak not, my lord," said he, his voice lower than before. "For you would defend him, I think, and try to ease me, but I spoke in jest. Think no more on it."

He slid sideways, away from me, and with only a dent in his grace made for the door.

"Thank you again, Lord Elrond," he said over his shoulder. And briefly it appeared he intended to say more but perhaps he changed his mind for he left the healing chamber without another word.

o.O.o

It was a while later that I found myself once more in Thranduil's company. The moment the door to his study had closed behind me he had inquired after his son and I had given him my report such as it was. As I expected, he appeared comforted by the news. Even so, he was never one to be generous with his gratitude and therefore I was also surprised when he nodded at me.

"You have my thanks for treating him," he said, and I saw that his eyes were clear and he was honest.

"It was truly nothing but a scratch," I told him. "He will scarcely feel it tomorrow. Though I have bidden him to remain here for a few days. There is no sense in testing even the simplest wounds."

I moved into the room and claimed the chair I had occupied earlier that day. The fire was burning quite low and the daylight that fell in through the shaft in the ceiling was failing.

"I have learnt as much in the dealings with my own sons," I continued when he would not speak. "Also, it seems to me that I see little of them these days and so I take every opportunity I can to keep them at home. If they have figured this out, they have been kind enough to never tell me so."

For once, I pushed aside the sorrow when it would have risen in my heart at the allusion to the fate we had been dealt. My sons had always been willing to fight orcs and other fell creatures that crept near to Imladris' borders or infested the surrounding lands, but after Celebrían's torment they had so completely devoted themselves to the task that they barely found any other work worthwhile. And so I feared for them and was proud at the same time.

But Thranduil had turned his face away and in the moving light his profile was sharp. "It was… never easy with Legolas."

I hesitated ere I spoke, afraid of being betrayed by my own voice. "He seems to me… bright," I said at last. "And from what I perceive in him, he has a good heart."

Thranduil looked to me then. "This is your opinion of him?"

"It is," I told him, "though I have seen little of him and know him not."

He was silent for a moment but then he said, "I love him, though he doubts it."

"Surely he knows," I said, with a shake of my head.

Thranduil gave me a sharp look. "You have spoken of such matters?"

"No…" I said, which was not entirely truthful for with Legolas I had indeed almost spoken of it. "Not truly. But am I not also a father?"

It was a way out of a conversation I did not intend to suffer through. Besides, I was far from sure that Legolas would have wanted me to relay his misgivings about his own father's desire to see him dwell in his halls for longer than necessary. Therefore, I said no more but waited for Thranduil to speak again.

He took long in replying and his eyes were keen and uncomfortable on me. The light that fell through the ceiling was failing quickly now as dusk crept in over the forest. Distantly, I longed for my gardens and stars in the Valley, and the uncomplicated rush of the running rivers.

"I see," he said at last, more to himself than to me it seemed.

"It is a difficult thing," I said carefully, for the first time edging close to where Thranduil's history mirrored mine own, "to take on the role of both father and mother."

Again, he half turned away from me and a shadow drew over his face. Also this time he was slow to respond.

"It is so," he said finally. Then he continued and his voice was unusually soft, "Sometimes I do wonder…"

"What _they_ would have done?" I suggested gently, when he would not go on. "How _they_ would have dried our children's tears and if they would have been happier for it?"

Old wounds and old fears. The fire gave a crackle as a chunk of wood broke in two in the hearth.

"Aye."

I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Aye."

Then there was silence between us, and stillness, until he straightened and with a long look at me left the room.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Despite having left our conversation in no place that gave either of us any comfort, that night Thranduil arranged a feast. It was the liveliest I thought I had ever seen his halls (though, granted, I had not been a frequent guest) and it made Glorfindel raise an eyebrow and myself wonder. Still, I was not going to question our host and instead accepted the wine as it was served in heavy silver goblets.

After supper Glorfindel and I withdrew in unspoken agreement to a place under a wide shaft in the ceiling where I hoped starlight would shine in. And we were rewarded when Glorfindel could point out Soronúmë in the darkened heavens above.

"At least there is that," I smiled at him, but took great care to make the remark discreetly.

"Aye," he said, "and this." He raised his goblet which glittered brazenly in the torchlight.

"That too," I agreed. "Tell me now, how was your day?"

"Long." Then he shook his head. "Forgive me, Elrond. It seems I have no taste for these woods."

"You are forgiven," I said, "but speak no more of it for I will not have the temper of our host tried. Not when it seems it has improved. For reasons I have yet to determine."

He inclined his head at this but then his eyes fastened on something behind me and they sharpened. "Here now."

I turned, expecting to see Thranduil himself but he remained engaged in conversation across the room and instead I was surprised to see that it was Legolas approaching. He had changed his wear and was now clad in fresh green breeches and a close-fitting tunic the colour of a storm. As he came towards us, the light from the torches and fires leapt to dance over his hair and glimmer in his eyes, and the sight of him tightened my throat considerably.

"My lord," he said, when he was close enough to speak.

I sensed Glorfindel's gaze on me but could not turn to look at him. The shade of Legolas' tunic was the same as that of his eyes.

"My lord Glorfindel." Legolas gave a slight bow. "It is indeed an honour to meet the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower."

"Of the Last Homely House now," said Glorfindel, but I recognised the humour in his voice. "And I am glad to see that you are on your feet, my prince. For I heard you had been wounded."

"I fear now that I shall never live it down," said Legolas, with a half-hearted smile.

"It is as it should be then," said Glorfindel. "For what other purpose should you younglings serve other than to divert the attention from the mishaps of your elders?"

For the briefest moment I feared Legolas' ire might kindle at this but he only laughed. "It is a cruel thing."

Then he turned to me and his smile was warm. "Since it appears my misfortune is no secret I might just as well thank you openly for treating my wound, my lord. There is little pain left."

"You have already thanked me," I said, relieved that my voice held, "but it pleases me to know that it is healing swiftly."

"I would…" Legolas briefly looked away before he continued, "I would speak with you some more, my lord, if you do not mind?"

This was, at last, when I found strength enough to turn to Glorfindel. We shared a look and he shrugged a shoulder. He would not, however, let me out of sight if he could prevent it, I knew. But he bowed his head to Legolas and to me he said:

"I shall seek out Vaeglin and we shall find other stars to ponder."

And so I was alone once more with Legolas.

I was about to open my mouth to speak of anything but he was the quicker one.

"I wish also to properly beg for your forgiveness, my lord," he said, and now his smile faded and an edge of embarrassment came into his eyes. "For I know I was harsh when I first saw you in the healing chamber."

"Well…" I moved my goblet from one hand to the other as if that would ease my speech along. "You were hurt."

His gaze slid from me and perhaps I imagined the faint rising of colour in his cheeks. Indeed, he appeared altogether rather uncomfortable as he stood before me.

"My pride it was that was hurt." He let out a breath and looked at me again. "For, you see, I rarely take any injuries and now I had done so while guests dwell in our halls…"

I regarded him with a frown. "I am not sure I understand?"

"I did not wish to display any weakness before you, my lord. You or my father."

"Battle brings injuries," I said. "I fear that is a fate inescapable when we take up bow or blade, my prince."

"_Legolas_," he said, then, and suddenly his eyes were keen on mine and the urgent light in them nigh on blinding. "Please, my lord, I was never comfortable with that title."

I hesitated. "Very well," I said finally, but not easily. "'Legolas' it is, though I think your father will disapprove."

This caused a peculiar smile to curve his lips: it was half humour and half regret. "My father, I am afraid, disapproves of many things," he said, "but let us not speak of them."

This was a dangerous path to tread, I knew, as I lifted my gaudy goblet to take a sip of wine. It was a velvety smooth red wine, rich but not spicy. As I drank, I watched him over the rim and there was a twist deep in my belly as our eyes met. I meant to turn my gaze away but never did and I felt another sensation: like a sudden wave of fire through my breast. When finally I lowered it, my goblet was heavy in my hand.

"I knew your mother. A very long time ago," I said, and whence the words came, I could never have said. It was truly a terrible way to continue our conversation, but I also knew that I needed the fire that smouldered within me to be quenched. And quickly, at that.

His smile, when I chanced a look at him, had turned sorrowful. "I did not. She was lost to us when I was little. My father does not oft speak of her."

"No…" I said, and must swallow ere I went on, "It is not easy to speak of those we have loved and lost."

He regarded me and for a moment there was a frown touching his features, and beyond that a question. But he did not ask and instead spoke again:

"It was an attack, I have been told. She should not have been there, but it was springtime and she had been of a mind to see where the lilies bloomed. And so she rode with my father and… darkness came upon them."

I nodded, through the anguish that flowed from his form and into my own at his words.

"Forgive me for bringing it up," I said. "It was not my intention to speak of such terror and cause you pain."

A pain I knew as well as I knew my own chambers in Imladris. And yet where I could have opened up to him and shared in his sorrow, the words did not come to me, for I never touched upon the subject of Celebrían's torment willingly.

But Legolas shook his head. "Do not apologise, my lord, for your words were well-intended." Then he gave a pale smile. "It is a good thing, is it not, that we cannot tell the future? For if there is pain in it, I would rather not know it now."

"Only the Valar know the future," I said, "and perhaps not even them."

He watched me for a moment before he tipped his head a little to the side. I perceived in him a shift in energy and he proved me right when a glimmer came into in his eye.

"And that, too, might be good," he said, "for if it is hidden from us all, does that not mean for us the most glorious freedom?"

This was a debate I could better handle and so I pulled myself from the familiar brink of despair. And I was not without gratitude for, unless I was severely mistaken, he had quite deliberately changed the subject.

"You are gainsaying yourself, son of Thranduil," I told him. "The future cannot be both written and bendable to our wills."

But at this he only shrugged and lifted his own goblet to his lips. Over the rim, his eyes still sparkled. Now that he had abandoned the talk of sorrow and sadness he appeared to shine in the torchlight that leapt upon the high walls.

When he spoke again, he did so with a smile. "Then we must choose our own version of the ultimate truth and live by it, as true to ourselves as we can be."

I shook my head but found myself smiling. "And this you have done?"

"Aye. At least I try. But let us not speak of that in detail for I fear that neither of this does my father approve."

And it should never have happened, but at his words my gaze skimmed his form and I knew, beyond a doubt, that he had taken notice of it. Though it lasted for only a heartbeat he saw my eyes upon his shoulders and chest, his waist and his thighs and though nothing at all had truly changed, he cocked his head just a little to the side when we locked eyes anew.

Mercifully, he made no comment but beckoned instead to a servant. I was of a mind to object as my goblet was refilled but my protest never came. I needed no more wine but it felt long since I had last found myself this intrigued by any company, and it was as frightening as it was addictive.

"Will you not tell me of the Valley," he said, when we were alone once more, "for they say it is very beautiful."

I found my voice. "In truth, I could not say."

"How so?"

"Because I have dwelt there for years upon years and cannot judge it as a guest would. But I do believe it is…" I smiled, "the most beautiful place."

"And do you welcome guests?"

It was an innocent enough question. And especially so from the son of a king who did not warmly take to strangers and visitors.

"Aye, and we see plenty of them, too," I said. "For the Great East Road leads to us and there is yet traffic through the High Pass. You would be welcome in my halls should your path ever take you thither."

"I would gladly accept your hospitality," said Legolas. "Indeed, I would wish to see every corner of this world."

"I am sure your time will come," I told him, and the glow in his eyes was hard to pull away from. "You may start with Imladris."

He laughed at this. "You are generous, my lord. And fair warning, for it might well be that I take you up on your offer and if the Valley is a beautiful as they claim you shall have a hard time getting rid of me!"

I should not have spoken then but something in him made my tongue quicker than my caution. Or perhaps it was the wine. Or both. In truth, I no longer knew.

"I should not wish to get rid of you," I said, before I realised what I might be implying. "My sons, I think, would gladly ride with you," I added, in an attempt at clarification.

"And I am sure I would gladly ride with them," he said, courteously enough.

But his eyes would not leave my face and the memory of the light in them stung my cheeks even after I had gone to bed and there was naught but darkness around me.

**TBC**


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was to my relief that I saw no more of Legolas in the days that followed; wherever he was, it was not in Thranduil's study and nor did he take food with his father as far as I could tell. I had arranged it so that Glorfindel did not accompany me to the debates with the Elvenking for his frustration leaked too easily into his voice and did not improve the general mood.

When one week had passed and the moon had waxed almost to full, I thought I had discovered enough about Thranduil to know for sure that he was not likely to be ensnared in the webs of the Enemy. And so it was that I began preparing for our departure and return home. But if I had thought that we were done arguing in circles, I was sorely disappointed, for on one evening I made the mistake of once again bringing up the dwarves and whatever aid they might provide.

Thranduil had been seated but now he rose, and there was again a flicker of a cold fire in his eyes.

"A fool you are, Elrond," he told me, "when you speak thusly of all the races in Middle-earth. Elves, Men, Dwarves… we are not one and the same! No doubt you will soon propose that we wake again the Onodrim from their slumber. Nay, we can place no trust in them, but only in ourselves."

"This again?" I asked him, unable now to pretend that I had any patience left. "Tell me, Thranduil, was it not the battle-axes of the Naugrim that stayed Glaurung and his host at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad? And was it not the knife of Azaghâl who wounded him and chased him back to the pits of Angband?"

He tossed his head. "You would play a game of knowledge, Elrond? And bring up ancient lore of the Elder Days? If so, I say to you: was it not also the Naugrim who slew Thingol in the depths of Menegroth?"

Then I, too, stood and felt such ire that I had not known for hundreds of years. _"For his pride."_

"And theirs!" There flashed the cold light in his eyes. "Nay, this I will not do. For you have lost yourself among the mists of history, Elrond, and it has blinded you and so you fail to see the world as it is now."

"The present is ever a mirror of the past," I told him, and I heard my own voice frayed by anger.

"It is but a suggestion!"

"Our foe is the same."

"So we know Him."

I shook my head, forcing my breath to come evenly. "We do not know the full measure of His strength."

But to this he did not respond and the air slowly stilled around us. At long last, he turned to me and I saw that he was calmer now.

"You seek to know if I have fallen under the spell of the Shadow," he said quietly. But he did not search my face as if to divine whether he was correct and I wondered for how long he had guessed at my true purpose for coming here. "Do you think me so weak?"

"No," I said to him plainly, and realised it was the truth. "I do not. But I fear His influence. You are right when you say that we have many times been betrayed."

"Aye…" There crept into his eyes, then, a sudden gleam but it was not unkind. Instead, it brightened his face and curiously softened the line of his lips. "I perceive in you a change, Elrond," he said, and if I were not mistaken he spoke in honesty. "It is long since I saw fire in your eyes and heard it in your words. It gladdens me."

"You would argue with me more often?" I asked, surprised.

At this, he laughed, and it quite transformed him. "I would! And I would not."

He returned to his seat by the fire and so I did the same. As silence fell, I regarded him thoughtfully. His anger appeared to have vanished and I suspected that here was my chance to strengthen the bond further between us. I would however, I knew, be forced to share something of my own with him, something near to my heart. Therefore, it was that I spoke, slowly, and doubting myself even as I did so:

"Thranduil… There is something I would discuss with you. Another matter completely."

There was a flicker of interest in the grey of his eyes and he nodded at me to continue.

"It concerns my daughter," I said, much as Thranduil had once instigated the talk about his son. The memory brought an odd heaviness to my next breath, but it passed. "Arwen… has yet to bond, to enter into marriage. I fear I do not know how to go about this."

He raised one eyebrow and lifted his chin just a fraction.

"And has she expressed some wish to be wedded?"

"Not exactly," I admitted, "but it troubles me that she should be so alone, with a father who knows little of these things and two brothers oft away from home and pursuing danger and battle. It has been suggested to me that perhaps Lothlórien would be better suited for her. That she might find some joy there, if Imladris seems to her dull and dreary."

"I have never heard your realm thus described, Elrond."

It was generous of him as he rarely spoke highly of any other land than his own and I acknowledged this with a bow of my head.

"Those are my own fears, I believe. For a shadow fell upon Imladris at the departure of my wife and only of late has it lifted."

At my own mention of Celebrían, the words turn to charcoal in my mouth. Or indeed to the dead soil of Mordor at the foot of Orodruin; I could still taste it sometimes, in my dreams, though it was over two thousand years ago that I stood upon the cursed plains of that land.

Thranduil's grey gaze was steady on me and his voice was unusually soft. "A shadow upon your heart."

I looked away. "Celebrían and I…" It was a strange thing to speak her name to another. "We were… encouraged. It was not a union obviously arranged but nor was it entirely of our own invention. Yet I grew to love her dearly. But I would have something even better for my daughter."

"The freedom to choose?" There was a wryness about his words and when I looked to him also a small twist of his lips. "Do you think our children know best?"

"They alone know their hearts' truths."

"It is so. Unfortunately." But he did not appear too concerned. "However, I am afraid I cannot help you, Elrond, as all my sons but two are betrothed or wedded."

I could only hope that the surprise did not show on my face. It was true that I had sought to secure the friendship between the Valley and the Forest but never had I intended for that bond to be strengthened through marriage. And I had certainly not intended to make bargain of my daughter.

Thranduil, for his part, seemingly took no notice of my confusion.

"As for my two remaining sons," he said, and flashed a small, sardonic smile, "one of them would not please you and the other would not please your daughter. For Galdor has no head for history and lore and this, I think, would sit ill with you. And then there is Legolas."

Again, at the mention of the name, there was a twist of sorts in my breast. It would be a good thing indeed to leave Mirkwood as swiftly as possible so that the memory of Thranduil's youngest could be given a chance to fade. For this would soon madden me: the lingering grief born from the departure of my wife vying with the warmth that Legolas' smile woke in me. I was torn, worn and wearied, and surely not someone whom such a radiant creature would find attractive. And even if he did, how was such a path even approached? No, I had little strength saved for a such battles, I feared.

"It is true that his ways are not to my liking," Thranduil went on, seemingly unaware of my unease, "but I would never force him into a union against his own heart. I cannot see how any good could ever come of that."

"That is wise," I managed, my voice perhaps a shade too weak.

I sensed the sarcastic reply that lay in waiting but it never came. Instead, he looked long and hard at me and there came into his eyes a mix of emotions that made each hard to tell from the other.

"Then it is I who shall ask something of you, Elrond. A favour." He appeared all of a sudden uncomfortable. "I know that you have spoken with Legolas for I saw you together at the feast. And it looked to me as though you did not find his company entirely unbearable."

There was a question simmering underneath the surface of his words and I forced myself to sit quite still. I had not known that Thranduil had been observing us and I chided myself now. But it was true that I had been too captivated by the light in Legolas' face to pay attention to much else. And so now I cast around for something to say other than that I had genuinely enjoyed my time with the prince.

"His mind is sharp," I said finally, somewhat warily. "And you have noted yourself that such things please me."

"Aye. Therefore, I ask of you to allow him to accompany you to Imladris when you leave. He has never set foot outside the borders of my realm and…" He looked away briefly and the firelight played upon his face. "I cannot help but think that such an experience might set his head right. And it would ease me to know that he was in the company of someone I trust."

"Thranduil…" I began, as my insides twisted into a cold, aching knot, "I am not sure…"

But his eyes fixed on mine and they were shining with a beseeching light. "It would indeed ease my heart."

I wished then that I could have got up and paced the room but I remained in my seat. For the hundredth time, it felt to me, I wondered how this elf had managed to manoeuvre me into such an impossible debate and situation. Desperately, I tried to think of a several good reasons for why including Legolas in my party was not at all desirable but Thranduil's gaze was a heavy weight on my form and it was as if the pressure of it muddled my mind.

"He is skilled with a bow," said the Elf-King eventually when I gave no reply. "I admit I do not know the talents of your sons, but perchance he might teach them a thing or two? He could be of service to you for a time, while given the chance to see some more of the world and maybe learn something, in turn."

"I am sure there would be mutual benefit," I said, for it was not at all unlikely.

But into my mind spilled images unbidden: here in Thranduil's caves the light was that of fire and muted daylight and only once had I seen Legolas cradled by sunshine. But now I fought the sudden yearning to see him under the moon and the stars, too, and I was sure he would glow as them, encased in ethereal silver.

It could not be, I decided at once. For it was madness that had gripped me, to be sure. How it had come to be that the smile of Legolas chased the very breath out of my body I could not say, but the sooner I forgot about him the better. This fixation was utterly inappropriate and now I must find a way to convince Thranduil that agreeing to his plan was unthinkable.

"We lead a quiet life in Imladris," I said, at long last. "I fear Legolas would find it rather dull."

"It may be so," said he, "but nonetheless I ask this of you, Elrond. I would be forever grateful."

It was then that I recalled Mithrandir's fears and knew that if I wanted to secure an alliance with Mirkwood, this might be the cost. And so it was that I bowed my head and made to steel my heart against the alluring shimmer of grey-blue eyes, and spoke though I could sense how I wrought my own doom in the doing:

"Then it shall be so."

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Just a quick note to say thank you for reading this story. I've been travelling quite a bit lately and have been without an internet connection at times so if I have failed to respond to any review, forgive me. Now, onwards!

**Chapter 13**

We made camp not far from the roots of the Mountains in a dell, shielded by thick holly trees who stood stooping and gnarled. Nevertheless, their waxen leaves were a deep comforting green and I felt quite safe even though we knew orcs were multiplying in hidden caverns in the deep. Perhaps we should have sped on through the High Pass but I seemed unable to give such an order when Legolas' eyes shone with every new discovery as the lands unfolded before him, and he turned his face in awe at the snow-capped peaks of Fanuidhol, Celebdil and Caradhras that gleamed white against the blue sky in the distance.

"I should be wary indeed of a journey over them," he said, "but they are a wonder to look upon."

I said nothing in turn for more captivating than the peaks of the Misty Mountains was the glimmer in his eyes and I struggled to do much else than to watch him.

Even Glorfindel appeared content with the slow progress we made. During our short stay in Mirkwood, spring had made great haste and the grass was now greener and the days warmer. Often he would turn his face into the breeze and breathe deeply, and a content smile would settle on his lips. We did not speak of it in the company of others, but I knew it had lifted both our hearts greatly to be freed from the shadow of the thorny woods of Thranduil's realm.

But this night, guarded by the holly trees, as we sat together by the fire on an old and dried log, he cast me a glance.

"So..." he said, in an undertone, almost lost to the snaps and crackles of the fire, "an errant princeling?" He turned his head just a fraction to shoot Legolas a glance where he stood in conversation with Vaeglin.

"Errant?" I said, minding to keep my voice down.

"Aye?" He looked at me and his brows were raised in question. "For Thranduil, in my estimation, is loath to let go of any treasures, be they his riches or his children. I cannot imagine that him sending his youngest away is for any other reason than that he is being taught a lesson."

I hesitated too long and Glorfindel's eyes narrowed.

"Well, I see you know more about this business than you lead on. I am not surprised." He did not look too vexed about it but nor did he smile.

"Yes," I acknowledged slowly, "it is true. But there is no great scheme behind it. Legolas desired to travel beyond the borders of Mirkwood and Thranduil had entertained thoughts of a similar kind for some time."

Glorfindel looked long at me. "You know, Elrond," he said at last, "for once I am not sure I believe you." Before I could answer him, he went on, "But as long as this is no punishment, you may keep the secret and speak naught of it to me. For it is a tiring labour to keep constant watch."

"There will be no need," I told him, and I hoped this was the truth.

"Then I shall be content, and perhaps even enjoy this. For he seems bright enough and different from his father."

"Indeed," I said, and my eyes, too, strayed to the golden prince. It was with some great force of will that I looked again at Glorfindel. "Besides," I smiled, in an attempt to divert his attention, "have you not already done work enough of that sort throughout the years?"

It took him only a moment to catch on.

"Have I not indeed!" He laughed, and the merry sound of it drew the eyes of our companions and among them the prince's. "Your sons were ever the bane of my good reputation!"

"You retain it."

"I only ever escape humiliation by the skin of my teeth, and barely so."

"You had better keep your mouth shut, then," I advised him, "and not let that sharp tongue of yours lead you into peril."

His clear eyes sparkled and yet there came into them a curious light as he regarded me. When he spoke, his voice again was lowered:

"There is a change in you, Elrond," he said, "is this not so?"

"It has…" I hesitated, "been suggested to me, aye."

He nodded. "Then as not the first and – I foretell – nor the last will I say to you that it makes me happy to see it, whatever its cause."

I found no way of replying to this and instead turned my face to the fire. Night was waxing and the first silver stars were emerging in the deepening blue sky. I had donned a light cloak but I did not really need it for there was no icy touch to the breeze and the heat from the leaping flames further warmed the night air. I would have preferred to speak of other things but Glorfindel's thoughts were apparently still bent on the prince and now he spoke again:

"He carries a fine bow from what I can see. Perhaps we should put it to the test when we are returned."

"Perhaps so," I said, and then forced myself to continue. "Thranduil boasted some of his skill."

"Did he?" Glorfindel seemed to ponder this and then he straightened a little. "My prince!" he called.

Legolas looked up and his talk with Vaeglin was ended.

"Your father has spoken highly of your skill with a bow," said Glorfindel. "I am of a mind to find out for myself if he was right."

Slowly, Legolas came towards us. He was clad in the fashion of his kin and if it had not been for his fair hair, he might have walked unseen through the trees. When he was only a few feet away, he stopped and gave a small bow.

"It would be an honour," he said, "to practice in front of the Lord Glorfindel."

At this, Glorfindel grinned. "You think highly of me," he said.

"You are a Hero," said Legolas. "Tales of your deeds are told in my father's halls."

"I am sure they are," said Glorfindel and I noted the glee in his voice. "In any case, your admiration of my feats pleases me. It is more than I was ever granted by the sons of Elrond who are indeed most ungracious and find more joy in embarrassing me than anything else."

At this, Legolas' brows furrowed and his lips parted but he spoke not. I knew I needed to come to his rescue and so I shook my head.

"My Captain speaks in jest," I said, with a sharp look at Glorfindel. "He is too fond of his own voice."

But Glorfindel's smile would not be chased away. "You are cruel, Elrond, to reveal the truth so soon, ere I had made an ally of the prince."

I ignored him. "I beg your forgiveness," I told Legolas. "In most cases you may disregard him as you please, though I must ask you to heed his command should you ever find yourself in battle beside him."

Legolas' eyes had widened while we spoke but now he nodded. "Of course, my lord. I mean…" He floundered and there was a slight rising of colour in his cheeks. "I do not know what to say," he admitted at last.

Then Glorfindel laughed again and motioned at the log opposite ours. "Come and sit, son of Thranduil, for it might be that I think of more questions for you."

And so it was that Legolas came to sit by the fire and I saw again his face warmed by such a glow. But he did not look at us, and his gaze was trained on the flames licking the firewood my soldiers had quickly gathered among the holly trees. As for Glorfindel, when I chanced a look at him, I could see that his mind was at work and there was a thoughtful look on his face.

It was Legolas, however, who broke the silence and it was me he addressed:

"Thank you, my lord, for allowing me to accompany you. I confess I am eager to look upon the Hidden Valley."

"I hope you will like it," I said simply, for under the weight of his gaze I found it hard to think.

"I am sure I will," he said, and now also he smiled. "And there I shall demonstrate the strength of the bows of Taur-nu-Fuin," he said to Glorfindel.

"I look forward to it," said Glorfindel. And then he looked to me and I did not know what possessed him in that hour for he said: "It is long since I saw you with a bow, Elrond."

"It is long," I agreed, "for it was never my preferred weapon. I was always more comfortable with the sword."

He made a sound of agreement. "Aye, it was ever so with me also. But it is also long since I saw you wield a blade. Perhaps I should take you both out to the training fields. I would not have you lose your skill in favour of writing and reading."

I stared at him but he seemed sincere enough. "I have not lost my skill," I objected, "and if you demand a demonstration you shall have it – one day. But it will not be in this hour and nor in this place for I can think of fewer sounds worse than the unnecessary ring of steel among the stone walls of the Misty Mountains."

o.O.o

The rest of our journey was uneventful for which I was glad. It was enough for me at present to remember to speak evenly and breathe properly in Legolas' presence and I was relieved that he spoke often with Vaeglin and so also with Glorfindel, and he seemed to enjoy their company.

In fact, as we dove into the pine trees on the western slopes of the Mountains, I began to wonder if I had not deceived myself. Perhaps it was that the light in Legolas' glittering eyes as they rested on me was nothing more than curiosity. It was not unlikely that it was in his very nature to look upon all others with such delight for he was quick to laugh and in general I perceived that his spirit was merry. What was more, if he were indeed seeking for something that lay beyond friendship, I was no match for him, surely. For I was old and the memory of the bitter shadows that had lain wrapped around me likely lingered still in my form and – I was sure – lent it no grace.

These were my thoughts as we passed into brighter woods and saw that spring had come before us. We slowed our horses and I found myself smiling at the first yellow flowers that peeked through the grass and the budding leaves on the branches around us. As I beheld them, and as Anor broke through the thin clouds to set my Valley aglow, I came to the conclusion that I had indeed construed a fantasy of some sort, for inexplicable reasons.

It could have been due to my years in solitude, I supposed, as I allowed the sunlight to fall into my face and I closed my eyes to better feel its warmth chase through my body. My days had grown long and bleak and I had desired to connect to another, as I had once done with Celebrían. It was as simple as that. I yearned for companionship again, and company of a different kind than friendship, even though I had not known it to be so. But now that I had been made aware of my own wishes, I needed no longer hesitate before the face of Legolas for he could never serve me so.

All this I had resolved, and was content with, when I opened my eyes again and they fell on the prince. And his hair was like the glory of the Sun and his raiment the hue of the wakening world around me, and his eyes as they met mine were not filled with curiosity at all, but with awe.

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Our return to Imladris would never have caused such a tumult if it had not been for the fact that we were bringing with us Thranduil's youngest. Still, I was grateful for it allowed me to slip away and retreat to my own chambers while my children took it upon themselves to show him our home and ask of him all they desired to know about the Woodland realm. It may have been cowardly but I saw no other way out. And so it was that I turned my attention back to affairs of governing (to Erestor's contentment) and spent long hours behind the closed doors to my study.

For a few weeks, as the days lengthened and the air grew warmer, I saw them only at mealtimes, and I took great care in not allowing my eyes to linger upon Legolas. He appeared to be enjoying himself and he often expressed his wonder at what he was seeing and learning. It pleased me and I told him as much but no more, and if he wondered why I seldom addressed him he did not ask. In this fashion I held out, refusing to examine my own feelings, until the moon had once again turned and Erestor came to speak with me.

"We draw nigh to Yestarë," he said, "and so it is my duty to ask if there shall be a feast?"

I looked up from the map I had been studying, with all the trade routes meticulously marked, and saw that he would rather have discussed them.

"Aye," I said slowly, despite my misgivings. I had been safe in here, where I was not asked to battle my fear of looking too long upon Legolas. "Will you see to it?"

"If I must," said he, and that made me smile.

o.O.o

It was a clear night and the stars shimmered white in the night-sky. The tables had been cleared and lamps were being lit, and through the gardens drifted a lazy breeze. While I had sat cooped up in my study, the grass had greened even further and grew now thick, and the first blossoms on the trees shone like stars themselves. The air was sweet and song blended into it and made me smile for no other reason than that.

They came up to me just as I had accepted another glass of wine, and they were smiling too.

"My lord," Legolas bowed before me, "your daughter is the jewel of this world."

I had relaxed and was now ill-prepared for the way in which the starlight nestled in his hair.

But my exquisite Arwen slid him an impish side-glance. "The jewel of the western part of this world, I think you mean."

"How can that be, my lady?"

He looked at her, and for a second time I thought that I must have dreamt Thranduil's worry and those long, searching looks Legolas had given me, as well as my own confusion. For he truly regarded her in what I only could call the deepest admiration.

The lamplight was dancing in her hair and she said:

"Some would speak so of my grandmother, Galadriel daughter of Finarfin, for she has seen the Light in the West. And I shall tell you that she is silver and gold fused. Like starlight at dawn."

Arwen's smile deepened and I saw in her the Queen she could one day become, if it was a part of Eru's plan.

"But think not that there is any competition between us," she went on, her tone lighter, nearing a laugh. "Now, I wish you a good night. Father."

She, too, bowed to me and withdrew, and her eyes were first on me and then on Legolas.

Neither of us said a word until she had disappeared behind a corner, and not even then. Then there was laughter to my right. We turned in unison to look at its source and the lamps around us were bright enough to cast a shimmering cascade of light over the elf not far away. I glanced back at Legolas and heard myself speak ere I could stop myself.

"Glorfindel the Golden," I said, and wondered if I had been unwittingly cursed. Still, it seemed I could not master my own tongue. "Many call him handsome."

Did I mean to test him? And, Manwë forbid, if I did, what was my reason?

His reply was a little slow in coming and his voice somewhat odd. "Handsome, aye… and so he is."

And just when I thought he would leave it at that, he continued:

"But my father is a Sinda, my lord, and golden-haired as well, and in looks I have inherited this trait, rare among our kin." His eyes raked over my face, suddenly dangerously clear. "And so to me the dark hair oft seems the more alluring."

"Also I am of the Sindar line," I told him, and there was in my voice an obvious strain, "and of the Vanyar."

If I were to ignore his stance and his gaze, I could imagine that he was alluding to my daughter. Or my sons, either of them.

"But you have the appearance of a Noldo," he said, passing no judgement either way.

"I am a descendent of Idril," I admitted. "Daughter of Turgon, King of Gondolin. But my mother was Elwing, granddaughter of Lúthien, daughter in turn of Melian the Maia. Make of that what you will."

At this he laughed. It was a merry sound that shattered some of the tension between us.

"There then," he said, "that settles it."

And it seemed to me that he knew all this already but had simply been teasing me. So relieved was I that the danger had passed that I smiled.

"Let us not delve any deeper into this," I said. "My own children can barely recite their own family line, let alone name the seven sons of Fëanor."

"Nay, it is all too complicated, I think." And his smile had the power to end this completely but then he waited for just a heartbeat, and another second, and then he locked eyes with me, and spoke again:

"I will say as much, though, my lord: you do not pale beside Glorfindel the Returned."

It was inappropriate. I knew it even as there came again a twist in my belly and a rush of something warm through my breast. And it was nigh on painful while also bordering on addictive. In vain I tried to gather my emotions and force my thoughts into order but I fear I succeeded not.

While I struggled with my own impulses, he lifted his glass to his lips to drink and his eyes fell from my face. He was young, so shining and so brilliant, and yet I wished in that hour that we had never met. For also in that hour I knew that I feared him and all the possibilities he seemed to be offering. He intrigued me though he should not, yet I desired his attention. And all the while I wondered how it was that he found anything of interest in me.

Then I, too, drank and was utterly relieved when others came to join us and the conversation was steered into more manageable territory.

o.O.o

The grass was cool underfoot. Midnight shadows lay draped across my gardens as I restlessly wove between the trees. The night was indigo and gentle and above me the stars glinted in a moonless sky. I had lain long in my bed after the feast was over but had found no peace there. And so here I was, and before I knew where I was going, I found myself drawing closer to the house and the rooms where Thranduil's youngest dwelt. I had certainly not been of a mind to spy on him but I seemed unable to turn around now.

An old rowan twined into the wall that melted down into a small patio and there stood a bench, and upon it lay a figure swathed in blankets. In the starlight a spill of golden hair was visible.

I took a step closer. If there was a reason for why Legolas had abandoned his bed to sleep outside it was truly my duty to look into it. Therefore, I stepped onto the narrow, tiled path that lead onto the patio and the smooth, worn stone made a sobering contrast to the living grass.

I had not meant to disturb his sleep – if truly he was sleeping – but when I was only a few feet away he stirred and too late did I realise how strange my unannounced approach might seem. I came to a sudden halt just as he pushed himself onto an elbow. There was a moment's compact silence but then he spoke:

"My lord?"

"Forgive me," I said quickly. "I did not mean to intrude upon your privacy but I saw you here and I was concerned."

He sat up among his blankets. They fell off him to reveal his chest which was only covered by a pale, loose undershirt.

"Oh…" He licked his lips and he did not appear entirely comfortable. "I see. You must think this very peculiar…"

He had loosened his braids so that his hair fell freely to his shoulders, and now he pushed it from his face. Though he made no show of it, it struck me a something so very intimate and an odd sensation passed through me. Then I realised that if I had not been wearing my robe, I would have looked very much the same. I was glad then that it was tightly wound around me.

He did not wait for my reply but spoke again, rather hurriedly, "I desired to sleep in the starlight, my lord. My father's halls do not permit such a thing. I assure you it was not my intention to displease–"

But I stayed his apology with a hand.

"Nay," I told him, "_that_ you have not. I am relieved to know there is naught amiss." At last I found a smile for him. "You may sleep however much you desire in the starlight."

And he, too, smiled and for a fleeting moment, the odd sensation in my breast returned.

"I do wish the moon was up," he said.

"He will be," I assured him, "in a couple of days."

There was silence after that. I told myself that he looked even younger like this but it was a lie for he looked simply immortal. Everlasting.

"Well," I said finally, "I will leave you in peace."

He opened his mouth but did not speak. Instead, shining in the night, he inclined his head to me in a show of deference, or acceptance perhaps.

I turned from him and the tiles under my feet were colder now as I walked away. If his gaze was on my back I could not feel it for I was too busy keeping my stirring emotions at bay. In mounting desperation, I placed one foot in front of the other and wound my way into the shadows of the trees until I was well out of his sight. It was there that I closed my eyes and barely found my breath.

Powerless, I turned upon the grass as knowledge came to crawl over my skin and my fingers twitched at my sides. The night was quiet and reflected nothing of my inner turmoil.

It could not be. Indeed, it _must_ not be for it was entirely unthinkable.

I stared out into the garden. After a while, numbness gradually replaced my fear and I welcomed it. Only one course of action was possible and that was dismissal. I needed to dismiss this and drive these thoughts and feelings out of my mind and my heart ere they smote me.

And so I drew long breaths. I focused on the air around me and the solid ground beneath my feet and the sky above me. I was still myself and I would not succumb to this. At last my energy settled and I was confident enough of my own strength to return to the house.

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Three days later, dawn brought heavy clouds and by the time we sat down to breakfast, rain came pouring down into the Valley. I had not spoken again with Legolas after finding him sleeping under the stars and he had not approached me either. Now he sat with my sons and if not for the rain we might have passed another morning together without any kind of interaction.

"Ai," cried Elrohir as the first heavy drops landed on the windowsill. "This is most unfortunate!"

"How so?" said Glorfindel, while reaching for the butter. "Were you of a mind to trim the roses?"

"I was not," said Elrohir, "but we have made plans to meet up with Haled and ride for a time with the Dúnedain."

This caused me to raise my head and I frowned at him. "You are planning on riding north again?"

"Yes," said Elladan, "for it is now many months since we saw Haled and his men. But we cannot well drag Legolas into the rain and force him to wade through the ditches of Eriador."

At this, Glorfindel's gaze came sharp on my face and I laid aside my knife.

"You certainly shall not," I said. "Ride north if you will, but Legolas shall remain here. He will not go with you."

"But father?" Elrohir exchanged a look with his brother. "Surely–"

"No," I cut across him. "Legolas is a guest, not one of our soldiers. You may risk your lives as it pleases you but for as long as Legolas dwells in Imladris it is my duty to ensure that no harm comes to him. He shall _not_ ride with you."

I did not look at him but if Legolas found any fault with my reasoning he did not say so.

"But," Elladan tried again, "you have not seen him with his bow, and he is skilled with a blade too. He will make a worthy addition to our company."

I was about to reply to this but there came in that moment a knock at the door and Erestor appeared on the threshold. For as long as I had known him, he had risen earlier than any of the rest of us and most often broke his fast alone, while the stars still lingered in the west.

"My lord," he said now, "forgive me, but a messenger is come with news out of the Wilderland."

With a last stern look at my sons, I left the table.

o.O.o

The rain continued to fall from a leaden sky as Erestor and I worked together in my study. Word had come again from the dwarves in the Misty Mountains. It seemed they were unwilling to stay there for much longer for their work beneath the rock was turning increasingly perilous as the orcs' harassment of them intensified. Yet I perceived that they would not gladly abandon their halls and this I could understand.

"Should they be forced to flee…" Erestor pondered aloud. "Well, they cannot take with them all that which they have wrought. It might very well be that they are willing to trade gold and gems for a lower price."

"You would advise me to profit from their despair?"

"If the time comes that we are forced to muster an army," he said matter-of-factly, "we shall need the gold for it."

"The gold, aye, perhaps," I said, "but not the gems. Breastplates do not stay the blades of the Enemy any better if they are studded with emeralds."

"Yet emeralds will give us those breastplates."

"We will trade fairly," I told him.

After several hours, the light warmed even as the rain kept falling. The air in my study grew stuffy and I folded my robe over the back of a chair. Erestor looked up at this and a line appeared between his dark brows.

"Spring is truly come," he remarked dryly, "in all her capricious glory."

"So she has," I agreed, as I sat down again behind my desk clad in only a tunic and my breeches, and I was careful to hide my smile from him.

We worked for another hour more and there was silence for a while before Erestor rose to stand and rolled his shoulders back.

"We have need of more parchment and of water, I think. I shall find both."

"Thank you," I told him, and after he was gone I resumed my reading.

When the knock at the door came, it struck me not as strange for Erestor was a fervent follower of protocol and even after working together for a full day it was most like him to wish to confirm that I would receive him before he came inside.

But when I had called out for him to enter and the door opened to reveal Legolas, I was momentarily stunned. Absurdly, too, my immediate concern was that I had pulled off my formal robe and that he saw me now as my closest family or friends on occasion would: with my tunic or shirt creased, and my hair tossed over a shoulder quite carelessly. Yet, near my heart came a jolt and it was pleasant and unpleasant both.

"My lord," he said. He spoke rather hurriedly but he did give a small bow. "Forgive me for intruding upon your privacy."

"How can I help you?" I asked bluntly, for I had not been prepared for this.

Something passed over his face then: a dash of distress and instant regret. It tightened my chest and stung me, like the bite of steel, and I had to compose myself. For it was wrong, and absolutely unfair to him, to make him suffer simply because I lost my footing whenever I laid eyes on him. Indeed, there he stood like a splash of sunshine in my doorway and I was receiving him with ice. So I drew as deep a breath as I could and laid down the scroll I had been studying.

"Please," I said, kinder now I hoped, and I also gestured for him to step inside, "come in. Forgive the mess."

For the briefest moment he visibly hesitated but then a small smile curved his lips and though it should not have been so, it warmed my heart to see it.

"Thank you," said he.

The door slid closed behind him as he came to face me over my desk. He still stood as if wrapped in a layer of indecision but then he spoke:

"I perceived in you earlier, my lord, a desire to say more on the subject of me accompanying your sons on their ride to the northern lands."

When I opened my mouth to speak he gave a small shake of his head, and I think I did not imagine the slight rise of colour in his cheeks that was the result of his own audacity.

"There is no need," he said quickly, "for I, too, believe my father will wish to see me returned to the Forest as I left it. I understand your position, my lord. I have not come to debate it further."

"I see," I said, quite surprised, for my sons, I knew, would have put up another fight given the chance.

"Besides" he inclined his fair head at the stacks of documents and maps on my desk, "I am sure you have other matters of far greater importance to attend to."

"The wellbeing and contentment of any guest of mine is important," I told him. Which was no lie.

"Even so," said he, and for the first time since he stepped into my study, his smile reached his eyes.

They shimmered as he beheld me, offered me a sea of light to drown in. Then I felt it in my heart and in the very pit of my stomach: the rising tide, the ever faster flowing current of sudden longing to reach for that light. To surround myself with it and allow it to fill my soul. To allow _him_ closer, to soften and dissolve before his wishes, such as they were – whatever they were.

I could pretend that he had no power over me. Indeed, I could fight it until I had worn myself out so completely – until I was extinguished. I could let myself think, when I was alone, that he was nothing to me but an acquaintance – the son of a difficult Elf-King and a friend of my children. But it was not so. Or it was more than that. For while the day lay swathed in a thick shroud of grey mist and the rain blurred the view from my window, Legolas was like the Sun. And where he stood before me, his radiance blinded me and I felt something finally blossom in my heart.

"Legolas..."

But it turned out I had no words for him. His blue-grey eyes were on mine and suddenly it was as if I saw a thousand questions in them. His smile had dwindled and it took me a moment to realise that the urgent need in the spoken name was mine own. Unsteadily, then, I rose to my feet and felt the floor shift beneath me.

My mouth had gone dry but when I looked upon him, the drumming of the rain was in my ears. I could taste the water that collected in the pools and the rivers and the freshness of it sent my senses spinning. His eyes had widened and as if from a distance I saw myself moving. And I circled the desk to come face to face with him.

"My lord…"

We were close now, so close that I could see the blend of colour in his eyes. They seemed to me bluer now than when he had entered my study. He looked ready to shy away from me but he did not. Slowly, I lifted my hand and I held my breath as I watched my fingertips dance over his temple. His lips parted but I could not hear him breathe.

"Is this…?" I began, but my words were nearly lost in the sound of the rain, and I barely knew what I was asking.

He stood perfectly still. "Aye," he said, but it was a whisper, "it is the way of my heart."

I knew not for how long we stood like that, with my fingers almost touching his skin and his hair. Silvery light flickered around us as the clouds moved over the Valley but the face of Legolas was what held me captivated.

Then, entirely without thinking, I leaned in and joined our mouths together.

He was the softness of summer. He kissed me gently and I melted into his warmth until my heart, I was sure, was no longer and yet it was everything. His was the sweetness of new adventures and the glory of youth, and though he barely applied any pressure I felt myself dissolve in his light. My hand finally landed in his hair and it was like silk through my fingers. I could smell the rain and I knew the world was still turning but Legolas' lips were against mine and I needed nothing else. I explored the fullness of his lower lip and tasted him over and over until I was utterly changed.

It was then that we parted and I beheld him once more, and I was sure I had never before laid eyes on such beauty.

"Do you see now, my lord," he said quietly, "why I cannot ride with your sons into the North?"

My hand was still in his hair. I combed my fingers through it as his braids allowed.

"I see it," I told him.

Perhaps he would have spoken again but in that moment came a new knock at my door and it startled us both. His gaze was torn from my face and air rushed into my study from the window and another wave of rain thundered through my gardens.

"Elrond?" came Erestor's call through the door, and it brought everything back.

My hand fell from Legolas' hair and he backed away. I needed to breathe, I realised, and I did my best to accomplish this.

"Yes," I called, "just a moment."

But Legolas had retreated enough for his presence to appear innocuous and his lips were no longer reddened for he had paled markedly. I did not know what to tell him and even if I had found the words I could not dare for Erestor to overhear them. And so it was that Legolas spoke first and he even managed a small bow:

"I have taken up much of your time, my lord. I shall leave you to your work."

My heartbeat came unevenly as he made for the door and opened it, and it might well have been that Erestor was surprised to see him but I took no notice of that.

"Legolas," I said, and to my own ears it sounded like a command, but the sternness in my voice served its purpose for he paused and looked back at me.

"We shall speak more of this later," I told him.

Then he bowed once more and was gone.

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

It was lucky for me that Erestor's mind was bent towards politics and governing and that, while he was at work, concerned himself with no other matters. If he had been more like Glorfindel I would have had a more difficult time hiding the emotions that incessantly tumbled through my breast. I felt my lips burn and the skin of my hand which had so lightly woven into the golden hair of Legolas tingled. A desire came upon me then to kiss him again and see his eyes widen as I stood before him, and so intense was that yearning that it frightened me.

More troubling, however, was the recollection that not even forty years had passed since Celebrían's departure from the Havens and her farewell to the life we for so long had shared. Forty years is nothing to the Elves whose memories and lives stretch, by the decree of Ilúvatar, into infinity. Though the past years had been dark, I felt now guilty for having found the light again in the shape of Thranduil's youngest.

And this, too, was an unsettling thought, for should anything more than a few traded kisses spring from my entaglement with Legolas, Thranduil would not look upon me with kindness, I suspected. All too obvious was his dislike of my choices and my dealings with the world around me. As my thoughts raced ahead and teased forth an illusion of an uncertain future, I knew that by opening my heart to Legolas, and the binding of him to me, I would also have to battle with the rage of his father, and this seemed to me a daunting prospect.

But even so – even as I pondered all of this – I could not find the strength within myself to turn from this path. For too deeply did I crave to explore what lay now within reach. Thranduil may curse me for it, but I longed only for to kiss his son again if Legolas would have me so, world-worn as I was. As for my guilt, it had not been my decision to break the bond between myself and Celebrían and if it was no longer love, but the fear of my family's judgement, that tied us together, that was another matter entirely.

Mired in these thoughts, I spent the rest of the day in my study, and I took a light supper in there as well. But when even Erestor threw a concerned glance my way, I drew a long breath and rose from my seat to return to my chambers to wash my face and make myself presentable.

But for the first time in many years, restlessness crept upon me, and for the _very_ first time since they were raised, the walls of the Hall of Fire felt oppressive. Too often – far too often – my eyes fell on Legolas where he sat with my sons and it was a good thing that he did not look at me in turn. There was singing and Lindir read aloud the beginnings of a poem he was working on but I heard it not. My thoughts were far away when my daughter stood with a silvery laugh that brought me back to the present.

"Nay, my friend," she was telling Lindir, "for I am no maker of song. But I shall gladly sing it when it is finished if that should please you."

Then she made her way over to where I sat and joined me, and her eyes were narrowed in concern.

"Father?" she asked quietly, "is something the matter? You have not said one word since we came here tonight."

I took her hand and she gave it willingly. I would miss her endlessly if she one day decided to leave for any reason, be it for a family of her own or for Lórien.

"No," I assured her. But when her frown did not go away, I added, "Nothing more than usual. The world is uneasy."

It was the truth, though not at all what had occupied my mind as I sat in silence by the fire.

She beheld me for another moment and then nodded.

"It is a good thing then that there is peace and joy in Imladris. I order you, father, to remember that while you ponder the fate of the world." She smiled and tilted her head a little to the side. "And I beg of you to forget any troubles for a while. For I would see one smile on your lips tonight if you can be persuaded."

I lifted her hand to kiss it. "For you, anything."

"I will remember that," she laughed as I released her.

"Of that I have no doubt," I told her, and did truly smile and saw that it pleased her.

Soon thereafter I rose and like never before was I conscious of the way all eyes turned to me. I had got used to it over the years, and barely noticed it anymore, but now I was aware of the attention. When I cast a glance in his direction, I saw that Legolas, too, was watching me, and he had straightened in his seat and his glass stood quite forgotten at his elbow.

"Son of Thranduil," I heard myself saying, "if you would care to join me, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you. Together, let us seek Ithil among the clouds."

He was on his feet before I knew it and I trusted that he followed behind for I did not dare a glance over my shoulder. Instead, I lead the way out of the Hall and to the nearest flight of stairs that would lead us into the gardens and, more importantly, far away from the sharp eyes and ears of the others.

He came to walk half a step behind me but not until there was grass, wet from the rain, under our feet and we had come behind leafy bushes did I stop and turn to him.

There was no moonlight, and no stars pierced the heavy blanket of clouds that lay over the Valley, but to my eyes he still shone. And he looked uncertain. The night was quiet but the scent of newly washed leaves and bark hung heavily around us. A strand of his fair hair had escaped one of his braids and I saw my own hand come to brush it from his cheek.

He did not move as I touched him, but his stance softened a little. When my hand had fallen back to my side, he spoke, and his voice was nearly lost among the shadows of night:

"I had never been happier than when my father asked if I wished to leave with you, my lord. I know he only did so to be rid of me for a while, but–

"He did not seek to rid himself of you, Legolas," I broken in gently.

"Well..." he made a face, "In any case I was glad."

"You wished to see Imladris," I said, though I knew that was not the confirmation which I was truly asking for.

And so also did he, it turned out.

"It was so," he said, and now his gaze flickered to the ground. "Yet even deeper was my yearning to see more of you, my lord."

I felt a rush of something through my breast. It was neither fear nor anguish, but not unfettered joy either. It took me a long moment to find the words – _any_ words – that might describe what I was feeling.

"Legolas..." I began, somewhat haltingly, but got no further for he spoke again, and with great haste:

"I know this is uncommon," he said. "Indeed, I know there are those that would condemn me for it but it is…" His gaze fell again to the ground. "It is the fashion of my love."

I took long in replying, I knew, but finally I spoke, and perhaps too easily I slipped into the role of a teacher:

"Light," I began, "is a gift from the Valar. And as I know it, love is light. In and out of itself, love is pure. True, it may be twisted – corrupted and tainted – but as such it has fallen victim to our own besmirching of it."

I shook my head. "We have often seen such befouled love between those who would bind with the other sex. I do not believe it makes a difference whom you should choose. It is what you make of love that matters."

It was a notion I had never truly considered before for I had never had reason to. But as I heard myself speak, I found that I believed in it, and I felt, too, the burning wish within myself to make him see it as I did. If I were trying to justify my own feelings to a world I hoped was not listening, or even only trying to find something to hold on to as the pace of my heartbeat increased and made my heart unsteady in Legolas' presence, then it was so.

"Those are fair words, my lord," he said, but sounded neither convinced nor derisive. "There are those who would not see mine as such."

"I cannot answer for them," I said, wondering to myself if he spoke of his father.

He did not respond to that. Instead, he half turned away from me and appeared to be studying the foliage that shielded us from view. Around us the world was a misty haze and I wished for starlight. He stood for a while like this: silent and apparently deep in thought, and I dared not speak again before he moved. When he finally turned to look at me, his face was not closed but he was hard to read all the same.

"You should know, my lord," he said, "that I have agreed to accompany your sons as they ride out to join the Dúnedain of which they spoke. _Not _past the border of your realm," he was quick to add, "and only for three nights, for there are still parts of the Valley that I have not yet seen. Then they shall ride on without me and I shall come back here."

I regarded him long. Perhaps it was for the best, I reflected, to be parted from him for a time, however short. It might actually be what I truly needed to successfully sort through my feelings and devise some strategy. For I needed to think long on this, I knew, and decide if I was truly prepared to commit myself to exploring this unknown land that lay now before me.

I needed to figure out what to tell him, how to word all my doubts and questions and desires, and – Valar bless me and grant me strength – what to say to my children and Glorfindel should it ever come to that.

And I needed to listen to my own heart.

But the longer I beheld him, luminous even under the clouds, I feared I already knew my heart, and it did not sing at his leaving.

"Then it shall be so," I told him nonetheless, "and when you are returned, we shall speak again of this, if you so wish."

He inclined his head. "Yes, my lord."

But there had fallen over his face a shadow and it made something shift uneasily in me.

"Legolas..."

As he looked up, I reached for him, and my hand cupped his cheek. Flowing like sunlight, he turned his head and sank a kiss into my palm. Like this we stood for an age at least, until I could resist no longer and it was then that I stepped up closer and guided his mouth to mine.

If I had somehow believed that one more kiss from his lips would fuel the part of me that doubted all of this, I was devastatingly wrong. He barely opened up but nor did he have to for alone his mouth against mine set the ground under my feet swaying. I kept my hand on his cheek as I teased his lips apart with the tip of my tongue and discovered the sweetness within.

He exhaled, maybe in surprise, and I found that it made me smile. And so I smiled into the kiss, and caused it to stumble, and then I ended it with one more press of my lips to his.

When my eyes opened anew he looked as if lost in a dream, and his eyes were the twilight itself and I knew, beyond certainty, that my heart was lost forever.

**TBC**


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

As had finally been decided, after breakfast the next day, my sons and Legolas saddled horses and rode off into the greening woods. I said nothing against this for after the kiss we had shared the night before, I was certain that Legolas would return as he had promised. Elladan and Elrohir might on occasion object to my rules and question my orders but for as long as I dwelt in Middle-earth, and they with me, they submitted and obeyed.

Nonetheless, it was with a heavy heart that I saw them go, even as I wrangled from my sons the promise to return ere midsummer.

"Very well," said Elladan, as he tightened the straps of his saddlebags, "we promise."

"Unless we hear rumour of far more spectacular celebrations elsewhere," grinned Elrohir. "Then you shall have to do without us!"

"I am sure we would do well enough indeed," said Glorfindel dryly. He had joined us in the courtyard.

"And when you finally return," he went on, "and the snow lies as thick as you have ever seen it upon the slopes of the Mountains, we shall give you your due. For as I understand it, ground-up cheeky elflings are exactly what fuels Mithrandir's midwinter fireworks."

At this, Elrohir only laughed. He tightened his bedroll to the saddle and gave it an experimental tug. When elves journey unburdened by any baggage it is our custom to ride bareback but my sons were bringing plenty of gear and provisions with them. Elves do not need much in the way of sustenance but they were meeting up with Men and they are a race far more susceptible to hunger and the wilful ways of the weather.

As for the weather, the sun was trying her best to break through the clouds. Yet a fickle wind was blowing and the eastern sky hung heavy and grey above the green crowns of the pine trees. I glanced up at it uneasily.

"Mind your paths," I advised them. "There will be more rain later and the land is not yet dried up. Take care your horses do not slip in any mud."

Elrohir raised an eyebrow at me. "Father, we have not fallen off a horse since we were little. Which is," he spared Glorfindel a glare, "over two thousand years ago."

"It may be so," I said, "but Legolas is now your responsibility."

I nodded at the son of Thranduil who was meticulously fastening his rolled-up cloak to his saddle. He was dressed for riding, in greens and browns and high boots, and his long hair was pulled from his face by tight braids. Fierce, he looked, I thought, like Adventure itself; and in that moment I felt old and dusty and uninteresting. Suddenly I wished that I had dressed differently that morning. In a kirtle at least, something a little less dull than the robe that fell around me like curtains shielding a potentially – hopefully – intriguing sight from view.

"Ah!" Elladan laughed, shaking me out of my ponderings. "It is not you or me he is concerned for, brother, but the prince. Come Legolas, I hope you have the taste for a bit of mud and rain!"

At the call, Legolas lifted his fair head and I saw the glitter in his eye.

"I do not mind rain or mud," he said as he looked at Elladan, and with a grin unlike any I had seen from him before. "And I wager the woods of my home are far more treacherous."

"A fine challenge," said Elladan. "Get on your horse then and allow us to guide you to the boggiest bogs this side of the Misty Mountains!"

But halfway through his grin, Legolas' eyes met mine and though I thought I spied no change in his face, there crashed into me a wave of such powerful longing that I lost my breath. I had no time, then and there, to reflect upon this and even if I had done so, it is likely that I would have dismissed this idea: that we had already, on some deeper level, connected, almost as if by mistake – or at least unintentionally. For we had kissed only twice and made no promises at all.

"You will take care," I heard myself saying, over the rush in my ears. "And return unharmed ere I know it."

"Yes, father," said Elladan, with half a sigh.

Elrohir muttered something similar as he swung up in his saddle. Still unable to draw any particularly deep breaths, I watched as Legolas did the same and he seemed to me to move like light through air. For his part he said nothing, but his gaze fell on me again and I read in his face more than I was prepared for. For there was eagerness there, and joy and longing, in a powerful blend.

"Goodbye," called Elladan, as he picked up the reins. He winked at us. "Soon you will be glad when we are going again."

With that they set out and, since my heart was against it for purely no other reason than my desire to keep all of them safe in my halls, I said no more.

When they had gone over the narrow bridge and the sound of hooves blended with the song of the mountain stream had dwindled, Glorfindel and I made our way back to the house. The wind was most certainly bringing a promise of rain to my doorstep. There, just as we had crossed the threshold, Glorfindel slowed his steps.

"Elrond..." he began, almost cautiously, "are you truly concerned for their safety?" He spoke in a quiet voice and there was a flicker of worry in his eyes.

I shook my head. "I have foreseen nothing. Indeed, if I had, I would have forbidden them to leave."

For once, Glorfindel looked as though he were hesitating. "Have you ever considered that?" he said at last.

"Forbidding them?" I gave a half-exasperated laugh, hardly rooted in joy. "I cannot well chain them to the walls of the house."

"No," he agreed. "I suppose not."

I regarded him. "What is on your mind?"

But Glorfindel only shook his fair head and smiled, though it appeared somewhat forced. "Nothing. I look forward to a time of peace now that they are gone for a while."

"Well-earned," I said, unwilling to press him and just now finding it easier to play along. For as long as I could remember, my sons and Glorfindel had waged a peculiar war with each other and from what I could see, they all took great pleasure in it.

When the wind picked up and swept inside the hall to lift the ends of my hair, we resumed our walking. For the sake of my own sanity, I should have chosen a new topic of conversation but I found it hard to think of anything else.

"If anything should befall Legolas," I said, for some reason needing to say the prince's name out loud, "Thranduil will muster his forces and march on Imladris."

"And he would be well within his rights to do so," said Glorfindel. "Though I can think of many visitors I would rejoice far more at the sight of."

We turned a corner. I was perhaps deliberately making for my study, where I could occupy myself with other matters.

"Aye," I said. "It is so."

"However, I will say that I do not mind Legolas," said Glorfindel.

I looked at him sharply.

"It is true that I harboured some doubt and was not convinced that bringing him back with us was a good idea," he said, and then he winked. "But between you and me I admit to being wrong. Now, Legolas is clever, cheerful and courteous enough. He is not ignorant of history and seems eager to learn more about the world. Surely that pleases you?"

I tried to temper my reaction. "It does."

Glorfindel seemed to be waiting for me to elaborate but I could not.

"Good," said he, after a moment, but I could feel the weight of his gaze upon me long afterwards.

o.O.o

Two more days passed during which I did my very best to distract myself from the memory of Legolas' lips on mine and the fact that he was not there with me. I let Erestor expound on his theories regarding the dilution of the blood of Númenor and the weakening of the Men in the South, and I read my correspondence twice each day. Word came from Círdan at the Havens and I gladly gave the order to send him the provisions he humbly asked for. Not every herb thrived so near the seaside and I was only glad if I could be of any service to him and his people.

But at night I lay awake and watched the stars swim in and out of the clouds. I did precious little soul-searching in those hours – indeed far less than I had intended to. For it was clear to me now that there was no need: I missed the light of Legolas with an intensity beyond my scope of understanding.

It was also during those midnight hours that I for the very first time allowed my own mind to wander near borders I had not yet considered. And I admit that when the thought first struck me, I turned my face into my pillow and hardly dared to draw another breath. For though I had never partaken in such an act, I could well envision how it would be performed, and in that moment I both wanted, and wanted not, to find out if my assumptions were correct.

I both longed and feared to see Legolas glowing in ecstasy. And I wondered – oh, I wondered! – what it would be like to claim him and mark him with my hands and lips.

Or what it was like being claimed. That, I could not even imagine.

I envisioned him clad in only starlight – or moonlight, or twilight or sunlight or simply in nothing at all. If he were just himself, lying beside me where I now lay alone. I wondered what I would do then. If he asked nothing of me but only lay there, watching me with those shimmering eyes and was silent.

I would trace the lines of his body. I would find the places where touch made him shudder and draw unsteady breaths. I would weave my fingers through his golden hair and anchor him to this world by my kisses. And I would take him in my arms and beg him to share all his secrets with me.

Such were my thoughts as I lay swathed in the blue light of night, and they were foreign to me. Well I remembered how it had been with Celebrían in the beginning: though she had smiled, she had been shy to reveal herself and had barely spoken as I moved to touch her and then lead her to our bed.

I had not known what I was reaching for or what I was seeking in her kiss and it had taken us some time to find our rhythm. Always she was gentle and light as a feather and though we were bonded and my heart open to hears, I often wondered what stirred in the very depths of her soul. For, like her mother, she shone brightly and yet she was moonlight, and moonlight reveals even as it conceals.

But our life together had been happy and with the coming of our children my heart was finally healed. Too much loss and pain had I known, but in the faces of Elladan and Elrohir shone the promise of a better future, and when – as the first apple blossoms turned their faces to a cerulean sky – Celebrían gave birth to Arwen, I thought that my life was complete. Undómiel, she was called, and for a time all was well.

It felt to me strange to ponder all of this even as I lay longing for Legolas. Perhaps it was that I had fallen under some spell or enchantment. But wherefore I could not say – or indeed when it should have happened. All I knew was that the shadow of grief had been lifted from me and that I had found again my heartbeat, and that Legolas was the reason for this.

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

A rosy dawn had broken over the Valley and though the dew lingered long on the grass, the day grew to be warm and pleasant. I had risen early and, to Erestor's contentment, confined myself to my study and committed myself to correspondence before I grew too impatient to think properly. Never had I thought I would be feeling this way again. Indeed, as I settled behind my desk, I was baffled at my own restlessness, and it took me quite a while to reach for the stack of letters and break open the first seal.

The noon hour passed and I forbade myself to stare out the window. I could see well-nigh the entire courtyard from my seat – a deliberate decision from long ago – but I would not give in to mindless yearning. Instead, I bent my head deeper over Erestor's scrolls and reminded myself that I was still Lord of Imladris, however much I would have liked to shed that responsibility just then.

It was not until the light of the westering sun painted stray streaks of clouds a glorious copper that there came the sound of hooves and both Erestor and I looked up. He rose as I remained in my seat, not willing to display my eagerness. For a moment he stood silent but then he gave a hum of sorts.

"The prince is returned."

"Good," I said, which I decided revealed nothing.

"Aye…" But there was a hint of something in his voice that sat ill with me and the wave of relief that had begun swelling in my breast fell back.

"Is something the matter?" I asked, and it came out sharper than I had perhaps intended.

Erestor would not be cowed, however, and only sent half a glance over his shoulder. "All his limbs are intact," he said slowly.

I stood too then and came to the window. There was indeed Legolas, clad in the greens and browns of his home, and with his hair tied back in a single braid. Again, relief began to pour through me but there was a tension in the way Erestor was standing beside me and so I turned to him and eyed him closely.

"Speak your mind, if you will."

But he only shook his head. "No," he said, "it was nothing."

I considered pressing him further for he looked thoughtful and there came now a tightness to my heart, but in the end I refrained from it. There was a risk that by questioning him I might inadvertently expose my own feelings and I was not yet ready for that to happen. Indeed, I would be grateful if that revelation proved a good long while away yet. Instead, I left him to his own ponderings and went to order supper, and then I returned to my chambers for a wash and a change of clothes.

But there, despite my intense desire to see the prince again, I found myself lingering in front of my mirror and in contemplation of what I saw. If not subjected to long years of hard toil or torment, Elves change little over the years. Even so, as I inspected my own features, I imagined that I could see traces of my life upon my face. Like wispy shades and shadows they were; worn-out memories rising dully over my cheeks.

Gone was the elfling I had once been when Maglor and Maedhros had found Elros and myself under the stars, and gone also was the commander who had ridden out with Gil-galad. Yet the sorrows of abandonment and battle had marked me, it seemed to me now, and all of a sudden I appeared to myself grey and withered.

On my finger, as the sun sank behind the pines, gleamed Vilya, the Ring of Air. I had never desired it, but who could have refused the High King when he pressed it into your hand and bid you be its keeper and bearer?

And I had borne it ever since. It preserved my land, stayed Time itself, after a fashion, and kept us safe and unmolested by the Enemy. Its blue fire glinted now as I lifted my hand into the last streaks of sunlight that lay across my chamber. Few knew of it and could see it upon my finger for it was concealed to most. Yet in this moment I thought that Vilya had not stayed Time in me. I felt as ancient as the land under my feet, and just as weary.

I turned away from the mirror, then, and marvelled at my own madness. How could I ever have imagined that someone as bright as Legolas might find in himself a desire to seek something meaningful with me? Why should the Valar send me such a treasure when I had so completely failed in the healing of my own wife? So much so that she had found reason to withdraw her love from me. Was I not fit to receive punishment rather than reward?

I closed my eyes as I felt the cold fingertips of a familiar dread crawl over my heart. I had lost myself to dreams that had no foundation in reality – this was clear to me now. Legolas was beyond my grasp – an illusion to be sure – and he might have kissed me but he was young and his love might be fickle.

Indeed, he had made no promises but had departed instead. His looks at me had been long but maybe he pitied me. Or perhaps it was my station that appealed to him. In any case, whatever his reasons, I was now certain that I had fooled myself into believing that he saw something in me. And my cheeks darkened at my own mortification, and there was a twist of pain deep in my belly.

Yet supper remained and though I now dreaded it, it was my duty to welcome him back to my halls. So it was that I chose a tunic and donned my robe again, shrouded myself in my old shadows as it were. And my footfall was heavy and my heart even heavier.

They were all assembled as I entered the dining hall: Glorfindel and Erestor a few feet apart for theirs was a friendship that waxed and waned with the Moon (and the coming of news from the outer regions, and the nature of these) and Arwen and Legolas.

My eyes were on him immediately for I was weak, but he avoided my gaze even as he gave a small bow of his head.

"Legolas," I heard myself saying, "welcome back."

"Thank you, my lord."

There was silence after that and not even the smile of my daughter brightened the evening. Though she seemed dimmed as well when I looked upon her, and there was a line between her dark brows as she sat down. She had Legolas to her right and he was as far away from me as was possible. Glorfindel poured the wine and only he appeared to be in a cheerful mood.

"Enough!" Erestor told him, and snatched his glass away before it was even half-full. "You may drink for three but I shall not."

"There is no harm in it," said Glorfindel dismissively. "It is the winter-wine of last year, I reckon. And not strong enough to set your mind spinning."

But Erestor only looked sourly upon him. "You know too much of wine."

Glorfindel laughed. "And you too little." Then he grinned at Legolas. "Now, in Mirkwood you would hardly even recognise this as wine, I think. For what I tasted there was heavy indeed, and strong."

Legolas' eyes, greyer this evening than I remembered them, were not touched by his smile. "It is so, my lord. It was ever our custom to serve it so."

"A good custom," said Glorfindel. "You may consider that, Elrond, while you sit at work behind your desk. There are still improvements that can be made to our life here."

With great effort, I drew my eyes from Legolas' face to look at him.

"I shall consider it," I said, and fully expected Glorfindel to smile again. But though he did so, I perceived in him something else, too, and wondered at the sharpness that lay just underneath the sheen of glee in his face.

Silence fell as we began eating but I tasted nothing. Legolas' presence was like a pressure on my chest that made it hard to draw breath. His face, when I dared a new glance at it, lay as if in shadow and even the golden glow of his hair seemed muted.

Supper, then, became torture. I heard when Glorfindel questioned him of his adventures with my sons but his answers were short and he would not elaborate. He ate sparingly, I saw, and drank almost nothing at all. Arwen asked questions also, or tried to draw from him any such details that he was willing to offer, but soon talk dwindled into a new silence, and it lay like a thick mist around the table.

When we were finally done, Erestor bid us goodnight. He was not one for singing and poetry and found often, I knew, that the many hours others devoted to the Hall of Fire, he could better spend elsewhere. As it turned out, this night Legolas was of a similar mind for he stepped forward just as we made ready to leave, and his eyes barely touched my face as he spoke:

"If you do not mind, my lord, I should prefer a walk in the gardens. It seems I have not the taste for song tonight."

There was nothing in neither his voice nor words that suggested he desired me to accompany him so I nodded.

"Of course," I said, through the tightness that was now wound around my throat. As if sent to taunt me, the memory of the feel of his hair through my fingers shifted in me. "You may do as you please."

He bowed and took a step back, stepping away from me as quickly as possible.

It was then that Arwen stirred and said, "If you do not mind, Legolas, I will join you. And we can speak or be silent, as you wish."

At this, he looked at her and there was a moment during which his face was entirely closed to me, but then he gave a faint smile. "I would gladly accept your company, my lady. For I have missed your sanity while your brothers dragged me through the bogs."

Her laughter chased some of the shadows from the corners and she took his arm. "Come then and let us find dryer ground."

With this they left and remaining by my side was Glorfindel. He stood for while unmoving but then he turned his face to me and I could see that the smiles from before were all wiped from his face now.

"The son of Thranduil returns with a heavy heart," he said quietly. "I wonder why."

I swallowed and found that I could barely endure his clear gaze locked with mine. "I could not say," I said weakly, though I knew it was the wrong answer.

For it was I who had so firmly stated that Legolas' wellbeing was our concern for as long as he dwelt in Imladris, and if he was now ailing in any way it was my responsibility to uncover the reason as to why. Glorfindel, of course, knew this too and his eyes on me said as much even if he would not speak the words.

Yet, even in the midst of my own despair, it seemed to me strange that Legolas should return with a shadow cast over him even as I found myself doubting my own worth, and his interest in me.

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

In the days that followed I saw little of Legolas. I spent long hours in my study – just as I had done when he was away – and it felt to me as if roots were coming out of the soles of my feet to anchor me forever to that room. My house was silent and the air had turned heavy to breathe. Anor hid her face behind an uncompromising shield of white and the song of the budding leaves faded in my ears.

I knew Arwen walked in the gardens with Legolas and I noted how they sat together at mealtimes whenever I found courage to join my family. But he would not look at me and soon enough I found that when I looked to him, a numbness spread through my body and made me turn away. At night, I lay as if frozen, unable to either move or think, and blind even to the starlight that glinted occasionally between the blankets of clouds.

So the days passed until one afternoon when Arwen herself appeared in the doorway to my study with tidings of the outside world.

"They say Mithrandir is once more come over the Mountains," she said. "Rumour has it that he has sped southwards, but it might be that he will once more stand on our threshold. I should be glad to see him again."

"Aye," I said, mostly to please her, for, though I loved him, in this moment I thought I did not need the Istar under my roof as well.

She looked then as if she would say something but she stayed silent. Yet she lingered in the doorway and suddenly I felt a great urgency rise within me. And so, just as she tentatively said 'Father…' I finally found my voice:

"You have spoken with Legolas?"

She closed her mouth. Then she stepped inside my study and pulled the door shut.

"I have," she said, somewhat guardedly.

"And do you know what ails him?"

She took her time in replying. Her grey eyes were searching on my face, but for what I could not say. When she finally spoke, her words came slowly:

"It appears… that while he was away with Elladan and Elrohir, they told him the tale of our mother. It shocked him to know her fate and it reminded him of his own mother, and of how she was ripped from him." She shook her dark head. "It is strange, is it not, to think that we have suffered such identical losses?"

I sat as if bound to my chair. "He did not know of this?"

"No," she said, "he did not."

A cold hand seized me and began squeezing the air from me. "What does he make of it?"

A frown touched her face, as if she did not understand my question. I was not sure I did so either.

"He is troubled," she said at last. "Wherefore, I am not exactly sure, but his heart is grown heavy."

That was when I stood.

"Father?" she asked, confusion creasing her brow. but I only walked past her with my mind swirling.

But I had no reply I was willing to give and so I would have to leave her with more questions than answers. My mind was swirling as I reached her and though she opened her mouth she did not speak. So I walked past her and left my study, just as the daylight began to dwindle and a chill breeze drifted through the trees.

Somehow some form of connection had been forged – already. This was my single clear thought. Whether the Valar had willed it or if it was somehow of our own making I could not say but I knew now that it was so. I could never say how it had come to pass for it went against everything I believed I knew of such matters but my mind and my heart were not solely my own any longer. Somehow what Legolas was feeling or thinking was tangling with my own feelings and thoughts and now I needed to find him.

And find him I did. Curled up he sat among the cushions on the bench on his patio, and his eyes were distant. At my approach he stirred and for a wild heartbeat I thought he would flee but he remained where he was. Perhaps he knew why I had finally come.

The stone was cold underfoot as I strode towards him. My hair lifted in the wind and pushed it from my face. There must have been something in my expression then for his eyes widened and he drew back a little.

"My lord–"

"Tell me," I said to him, when I was close enough to see a skittish light in his eyes. My voice came strained and full of edges, "Tell me why you will not speak with me."

It was unfair, I knew, for just as he had not sought me out, I had locked myself up and made myself unavailable to him, but reason forsook me now.

His lips parted and over his face crept apprehension. "My lord, forgive me, I…"

"Come," I said, and I walked past him and into his chambers.

He followed. The room lay swathed in the failing light of evening and it was quiet. Though it was my house and I was within my rights to set foot in every room, I was also intruding on a guest. Yet I could not find it within me to care.

"Tell me," I ordered him, when we were behind closed doors.

He stood like a faint spill of waning sunlight among the shadows, but he would not speak.

"You know of Celebrían," I said finally, and her name had never sounded so strange on my tongue. "My sons have told you of her fate."

Then I saw in him great anguish and his shoulders fell. "Aye," he whispered. "I am sorry for your loss, my lord."

"And I for yours," I said. "For I understand if the tale reminds you of your mother."

At this, something new passed over his face. "It does so," he began, "but…"

"I should have told you, perhaps when we talked in your father's halls." It was as if the urgency left me and flooded from me, and a great weariness settled on my shoulders instead. "But it was painful recollection."

"I understand."

"Yet… It is in the past."

His eyes, grey now like the sky above us, were filled with uncertainty. I took a step closer.

"I had thought that you…" I began, but failed and must try again. "She was a light in my life, but her light was dimmed and bitterly I mourned. Yet I have for some time thought that perhaps I have found a new light…" I ended it, almost on the sore edge of a question.

But Legolas shook his head and when he spoke the melody of his voice was broken:

"I knew you had no wife, my lord, for you brought none to my father's halls and no wife of yours was ever spoken of. It seemed you were alone." His eyes left my face and he half turned into the shadows.

"And so I pretended for a while that I possessed the means by which to entice you. For I found you… most desirable, and I was foolish. I was foolish to imagine that I could ever enthral an elven _lord_. The son of Eärendil, at that, who sails the heavens and whose father was Tuor the Blessed. One who fought beside _Gil-galad_."

"Legolas," I said slowly, attempting to keep my voice even, and my words mingled reluctantly with the dusk, "my life has been long and much have I seen. Few can compete with that. As for my forebears, small issue should be made of that for it is what it is."

He did not move but stood only staring unseeingly.

"I took you for one more courageous than that." I dared to chide him.

"Nay." Now he came to life and he turned to look at me again. "Or maybe. For at first I thought that perhaps love had dwindled between you and your wife. That it had grown cold and that was the reason for your solitude. But when I learned of how she was unwillingly parted from you, I knew that your heart was already given away."

I swallowed. "You would presume to speak for my heart?"

Again his gaze fell away.

"Celebrían… released me from the bonds of marriage," I said tightly, "ere she sailed. Unwelcome partings are a burden the elven soul bears in great sorrow. It was her will that we should close our hearts to one another, as best we could, so that the pain of our loss might be more easily endured."

"I did not think it possible, though I tried," I admitted, when Legolas did not speak. "The world dimmed around me. The song of the waters was muted and so also the sunlight and the glimmer of the Moon. Elves, I think now, are not meant to close their hearts to neither love nor pain; it is not in our nature to deny emotions. When we do so, our light diminishes and we do not find a way to rise above the pain and transform it into beauty."

"Can that be done?" His voice barely reached above a whisper.

"Yes," I told him, "though it is a wearisome labour."

He nodded, but still seemed so very far away. "I thank you, my lord, for your confidence. You did not need to explain."

I frowned at that and finally dared a step towards him. "That is all you will say?"

When his eyes met mine, blue had tangled with the grey and the light in them looked confused.

"My lord?"

"Legolas…"

I took another step, brought myself closer until I could almost taste the doubt in him. Briefly, I closed my eyes. Not because I could not bear to look at him but because everything that I had felt since his return rushed through me and for several irregular heartbeats I did not know what I was doing. But the moment passed and I opened my eyes. I drew a deep breath.

"I am free to open my heart to anyone."

"To cover up an old wound that has not fully healed?" Heat caught his cheeks and he looked ashamed. "Forgive me, I spoke out of turn."

"My _heart_," I said, and perhaps more sternly than intended, "is mine own. And long have I looked into it and I know it well. Do you think me uncapable of carrying in it a memory of the love I shared with my wife while also bringing into it love for another?"

He appeared to me almost frightened. "I could not say," he managed.

"Then I will. If you would have it so that I opened my heart to you then that shall be so. But not without cost. I will not play at this for a while as if it were some game–"

"It is not." He glanced down. "It never could be."

There was a space of silence between us as I waited for him to go on. Finally, he lifted his eyes to mine and spoke, warily:

"I do not seek to play games, my lord. It is true that I have never devoted myself to one single person before, simply because such unions are uncommon and it is difficult to…" There moved over his face a memory of something darker though it passed quickly. "But I would commit myself to you as you would have me, in any shape or form. If you found a place in your heart for me…"

"Enough, I think, of my heart," I told him.

I lifted a hand to his face and cupped his cheek. For a moment, he looked alarmed but when I stroked his cheekbone with the pad of my thumb his lips parted immediately. The softness of his skin hit me like the sudden gust of a great wind and the craving to know far more of these things returned to me and gripped me fiercely. He stood before me, wide-eyed and barely breathing while I allowed myself to stroke his cheek.

"You shall have to guide me," I said, quietly, even as he turned his face so that he could place a kiss in my palm. "For paths like these I have never explored before. And though you may doubt me, or yourself – indeed as I have doubted myself – know this: that upon our meeting, the shadow was lifted from my soul and my world filled with sunlight."

He looked as confused as I felt. But his skin was against mine.

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 20

My friends, we are now almost halfway through. Thank you so much for reading and for your kind reviews. I am so happy that you are enjoying the story.

**Chapter 20**

He kissed my hand again and his lips were even softer than his cheek. I found my own breathing grow shallow as his eyes drifted closed. My fingers slipped into the silky tresses of his golden hair and they tangled in it, and suddenly I felt the light weight of his hand on my waist. I brought him into my arms then and his chest pressed against my own and around me exploded the scent of sunshine on leaf and bark. My hands were lost in his hair and the floor shifted under my feet as he turned his face into my neck and sank a kiss into it.

I yearned for him even as I held him and never before had I felt such intense longing. And it was for something I barely knew what it was, at that. His light was unveiled and it wrapped around me; it sifted through my form and came to life in my very blood. He kissed my neck a second time and I saw nothing, I was sure.

Supple he was as he slid his arms around my waist and held me as I did him. I breathed in the scent of his hair, let it fill me and uplift me, until I sailed high above Middle-earth and knew nothing but the shimmering touch of his lips to my skin.

When I once again found the floor under my feet I could not earnestly say how I had lived so long without him. Yet, I loosened my embrace and he pulled back enough to allow me to look into his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his hair was tousled. It sent a flood of warmth through my breast and I would have embraced him again if he had not spoken:

"Forgive me, my lord, for questioning your strength… and your valour."

I shook my head. "Long did I question them myself. You were not at fault."

"I would…" He licked his lips. "I would show you…" He drifted off, colour once more stinging his cheeks.

"And I would let you. But you shall have to be patient," I warned him, and smiled. "For I am old and it is long since I was tasked with learning something new."

For the first time in what felt to me like an age, a timid smile curved his lips. "Yes, my lord."

"Good."

It was a wonder how the room felt now warmer. What little was left of the light of day spilled in through the windows and toyed with the curtains. Breathing came to me with ease and the cold shell that had encased my heart had cracked and vanished. The knotted net of thoughts in my mind was gone and I knew peace. Perhaps I meant to say something else but the blue of his eyes was too deep and his smile too alluring.

Gently, gently, I spun him around so that he came to stand with his back to my chest. Flimsy shadows flittered across the room as the first raindrops fell to land in the grass outside. He half turned his head, his face, towards mine. My hand lifted to land on his thigh, and I felt the thin wool of his leggings soft to the touch.

If I leaned in just a little I could bury my face in his hair. I hardly breathed as I spread my fingers on his thigh, my palm now flat against it.

"My lord…"

With my other hand I lifted aside his golden hair and laid it over his shoulder so that more of his neck was revealed to me.

The gentle tapping of the rain on the windowsill was soothing and perhaps without it, the silence might have become unbearable. Through the air drifted a freshness, a newness, and I felt it stir in my soul. Legolas covered my hand on his thigh with his own and there was barely any pressure. I let go of the past as I dipped my head and found his mouth with mine. He kissed back gently. Unhurried. My free hand returned to his hair and I ran the golden strands through my fingers.

The kiss slowed almost to an end and yet we lingered, lips to lips, and my eyes stayed closed until I felt him smile. I drew back, then, to look at him and he twisted around in my arms to face me and the light in the blue-grey gaze rendered me almost dizzy. I closed the distance between us again and instigated a new kiss, and this one was deeper, fuller and richer. His hold on my hand increased a fraction and our fingers laced together.

Without thought, I abandoned his mouth and kissed my way along his jaw and down his neck. For the first time like this, I heard him: a small intake of breath, and he angled his head. I breathed in the scent of his hair and skin, and he was clear skies and woodlands. My free hand I ran down his upper arm, back up, and then down his chest to his waist. I found his mouth again and this time he pushed his tongue into my mouth almost at once. If ever I had felt like this before, I could not recall it.

He pulled our joined hands in, dragged them along his thigh, closer to his hip, and I leaned into him with a vague desire to cover all of him. When his soft moan escaped the kiss, a heat woke in the very pit of my stomach and as it expanded within it was a sensation that almost made me want to double over. But instead I secured my hold on Legolas and gave in.

When this kiss too was ended the rain was falling heavily. I traced his cheekbone and brushed fingertips over his reddened lips and was gifted with another smile from him.

"Shall I open my heart to you?" I asked him quietly. "It is worn, and at times it has felt like a stone in my breast, but it yet beats. And it will hold you safe."

"My heart is young," said he, and he kissed my hand. "And will readily beat for two."

I drew him close, then, and held him tight. He melted against me and his arms came to wrap around my waist. I felt myself almost liquify as my walls were cast down and I let myself be absorbed by his presence in my arms. And I gave in turn: my own power, such as it was, flooded him and there came before my eyes a mingling of sunlight and starlight, and I felt a shudder race through him.

The room, my gardens, my Valley – they all dissolved around us until I knew nothing except for Legolas in my arms. I kissed his golden head and took him thus into my heart and nothing could, in that moment, have hindered me.

When I became once again aware of the rain I stirred and ran my hands down his back. His head had fallen to my shoulder and now he exhaled slowly.

"Come," I told him quietly. "I would look at you."

His face was softened and a blissful smile played on his lips. He looked so utterly sated that I laughed. And then I dropped one more kiss to those lips.

"What now, my lord?" he asked, even as his eyes glittered.

I released him though my hands burned with the loss and there was a sting of regret in my heart. "Now we shall go to supper."

At first I thought he might protest, but he only nodded. "As you command."

"As is natural," I smiled at him, "at this time of day."

If he agreed with that, I never knew.

o.O.o

That night, supper was a far livelier affair than it had been in the past few days. Though Legolas still sat by Arwen and neither of us let slip anything that might allude to what had transpired between us, the mood was greatly improved. Even Erestor appeared lighter of heart and he bore Glorfindel's teasing of him with more grace than I had ever thought possible.

"You," he said now, his dark brows raised at the Captain, "are utterly ridiculous."

Glorfindel appeared well pleased with this assessment as he soaked up the last of the sauce on his plate with a piece of newly baked bread.

"If I were not," he said, "what would you have left to ponder? Taxes and trade, I wager. Politics, as well, I suppose."

"That is all politics," said Erestor dryly. "Of which a component also is tact – something you have never understood the value of."

Glorfindel, I saw, was about to reply, but Arwen cut across him, and though her eyes glittered merrily she said:

"Nay, my lord, please stay your tongue. For this is like being in the company of my brothers and yet worse for those I may easily tell off. Not so with a Lord of Gondolin."

And he bowed to her. "For the Evenstar, anything. I shall be as you wish, my lady, and that is: serious and dour."

"I look forward to it," said Erestor.

After supper we made our way to the Hall of Fire and found there a large assembling of my household. I hoped my face did not betray me as I took my usual seat and watched Legolas sink into a couch beside Arwen halfway across the room. What I would have given in that hour to have him beside me I could not have said, but in any case I owned it not. But Glorfindel chose a chair to my left and after a while he spoke:

"Do my ears betray me or are the songs more cheerful this night?"

"It is so, it seems," I said.

"Aye…" he said, but his eyes lingered on my face. "Indeed, it appears as though each and all has had a glass of wine too many, for it is long since I heard so many light-hearted lays and so few laments."

"You are right," I agreed. "But though melancholy oft stirs in the hearts of the Eldar, are we not also known to be merry?"

"True," he said. "But I wonder what has caused this change. For only yesterday it felt to me as though a shadow lay thick over the Valley. It cannot well be the weather for it is foul enough."

"Foul?" From where I sat I did not see much of the sky and nor did I see the rain. "Remember, my friend, that rain is a song of water and water is sacred to Ulmo, and so in it the echo of the Music of the Ainur is ever present in Arda."

But Glorfindel was regarding me as if I had gone quite mad. "Indeed," he said at last. "Indeed."

The night was far progressed when the singing was finally ended and we rose from our seats. That was when my eyes met those of Legolas and my breath caught in my throat. When he came up to us, I must check myself for I honestly thought I could have kissed him right there and then.

"My lord," he said, "I wish you a good night. And you as well, lord Glorfindel."

"May Elbereth keep you safe in your dreams," I said, and my voice held.

But there came into his eyes a blaze which could have brought me to my knees had I been but a little weaker.

"Oh, I am kept safe," he said softly, and his eyes were the blue of the heavens, "for I sleep in starlight."

And I knew then that I did not have it in me to delay this any more than necessary. Yet I needed a little more time – just a little more time.

**TBC**


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

But the Valar, after having gifted me the Sun, gave me next a trial. For the following day, as if he had been thrust from out of the undergrowth, Mithrandir appeared again, this time on a brown mare and with two decently filled saddlebags.

"Elrond!" He greeted me as if he had not seen me in a hundred years, with a steady clasp of the shoulder and a broad smile.

The rain was passing on but thick clouds lingered in the east and the morning had been chilly.

"It seems that we see a lot of you lately," I said. "I had not thought your journeys would lead you to my doorstep again so soon."

He made a non-committal grunt but did not make to argue. Rain had weighed down the brim of his hat and it hung now heavy on his head, like a wilting flower. There was a scatter of droplets in his long grey beard and his robes were stained around his ankles. He had been travelling for some time, I gathered.

"Will you take some tea?" I asked, as soon as he had rid himself of his heavy cloak and given strict orders regarding the handling of his baggage, which was to be brought to his room immediately but otherwise left untouched. I took him by the elbow and steered him towards my study. I eyed him closely. "Or something stronger?"

"Oh, tea will do nicely," he said, his voice softening somewhat.

"And a fire, perhaps," I suggested.

"Ah, hm. Perhaps." He slid me a smile. For someone who had spent enough time outside to find himself in damp robes, he appeared rather invigorated.

I sent for tea and more wood for the fire. When the pot stood steaming on my desk and the flames leaped high into the chimney and the door was closed around us, I raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, what brings you into the western lands?"

He was standing by the fire, letting the heat transform the dampness in the wool into steam. There was a glitter in his blue eyes as he caught my gaze. "Is that a way to greet an old friend?"

"Well…" I poured the tea. "It is rare that we should see you return to swiftly to the Valley. I admit I thought your roads led elsewhere."

"And so they did. Over many a hill and under them, too." He spread his hands against the fire, as if to soak up the heat.

"You have seen the dwarves?"

"Oh, after a fashion."

"Very enlightening," I told him, over the rim of my teacup. I sipped the tea carefully for it was still warm enough to burn. When he did not reply to that I went on, "You should know that rumour came to us of your return to Eriador. If you had meant to pass over the Mountains unnoticed, you should have taken greater care."

"An old man on an old horse," he said dismissively. "What you do not look for, you do not see. I have often found that to be one of the most infuriating traits in all the races in Arda. Blind fools, the lot of you!"

"That may be so," I said, "but those who do watch have many eyes and much patience. As you well know."

He was about to reply when there came a knock on the door and with an eye still on the wizard, I called for the visitor to enter. But when the door opened to reveal Legolas I could not look at anything else. He had forsaken the deep browns and greens of Mirkwood and stood now dressed in the palest blue, and his hair was braided and there was a light in his eyes. But when his gaze fell on Mithrandir, a look of surprise drew over his face.

"Oh," he said, "forgive me. I did not know you had guests, my lord."

"Legolas," I said, over the quick beating of my heart, "come in. This is Mithrandir, a dear friend of mine."

I watched as Legolas warily slid over the threshold. "Well met… sir."

But Mithrandir was already striding towards him and he peered into Legolas' face with bushy brows drawn together over his piercing blue eyes.

"Hm!" he said. "_Legolas_…" Then he gave another grunt and straightened. "The son of Thranduil?"

"Yes," I said quickly. "He travelled back with us–"

"You brought Thranduil's son with you, Elrond?" Then he suddenly laughed. "Well, this is a surprise to be sure! Unlooked for, you might say." He winked at me.

"I came of my own free will," said Legolas, and there was a note of defensiveness in his voice. "For I had heard much of the Valley and desired to see it for myself."

"Yes…" Mithrandir once more scanned his face. "Yes," he repeated slowly, and almost to himself.

"Very good," I said. "Come, Mithrandir, you will scare him off ere you have got to know him. You are crowding him. _Mithrandir_," I said to Legolas, as he took a step back, "is one of the Istari, and not a little overbearing."

This made Legolas pause mid-step. "You are a Wizard?" he asked, and his beautiful eyes widened.

"More like a scoundrel, by the sounds of it," said Mithrandir with a sour twist to his lips, but there was a glint of humour in his eye. "You sell me short, Elrond, and have no compassion for and old man with sodden shoes."

"If anyone can dry their feet by their own power, it is you, my friend," I told him.

Then he chuckled and left Legolas to pick up his own cup of tea. He did not taste it at once but simply held the cup under his long nose and breathed in the scent. For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed and he smiled.

"Ah! You are serving summer."

I smiled in turn. "Soon enough."

He took a sip and exhaled slowly. Then he, too, finally sat down. He drank some more, looking for a moment lost among memories, before he shook them off and turned once more to Legolas.

"So, son of Thranduil," he said. "Shall you be staying to see summer in the Valley?"

Legolas' gaze brushed my face for the briefest moment and they were faintly searching. "I do not know," he said slowly.

"You may stay for as long as you please," I said, and I wished I could take him into my arms and taste on his lips the promise of forever. "But Thranduil should be made aware if your visit extends long into the year."

"It would only bring me joy," he said, and in that moment his eyes were so soft on mine that the light in them became a caress.

"Thranduil does not know that," I said, through the yearning that stirred in my breast.

"Messages can be sent," said Mithrandir, and his tone was contemplative. "There are ways." But when I managed to tear my eyes from Legolas, I saw that he was watching me closely.

I drew a deep breath to steady myself. I hoped that nothing in my voice had given me away, for the wizard's eyes were sharp and so was his mind. "Then perhaps we might make use of them soon," I suggested.

"Hm," said he, before he once again took a sip of his tea.

Legolas stirred. "My lord," he said, "I shall leave you to talk." He looked as though he would have liked to say something more but in the end he bowed and left my study.

I watched him go with regret in my heart and yet there was joy, and a sigh slipped out of me ere I could stop it.

"Does he bring you trouble?" Mithrandir asked when the door had closed behind Legolas.

"Trouble? No, not at all," I said, forcing myself to focus on the wizard. "So, tell me what brings you here?"

He nodded. "It seems I have come to beg for your hospitality yet again, I'm afraid, Elrond."

"You are always a welcome guest. You know as much," I said, and was ashamed for I wished he had not come.

o.O.o

A blue night lay over the Valley as I silently made my way towards Legolas' chambers. Spring hesitated, it seemed, for after the first burst of buds and blooms, the land lay as if sleeping, and the grass was still thin in places. But in the sky were the stars and they glimmered like jewels as I stepped onto the patio where Legolas made his bed on nights when the rain did not fall.

He was waiting for me. The evening had been long, with many a tale from Mithrandir and the telling of news out of the eastern lands, but even as we spoke, I had longed only for this moment: when Legolas saw me coming and how he smiled at the sight of me.

He stood by the railing, shimmering in the silvery light, and he did not say a word as I came so close to him as I dared. I stole one moment to simply behold him and the way the starlight played in his hair. I would have taken him in my arms, but we were plainly visible and though this meeting might already be considered strange by any other nightly wanderers, at least we were not touching.

But the eyes of Legolas were on my face and his voice soft when he spoke:

"I have missed you, my lord."

So it was that I led him into the house where we were shielded from view and I welcomed him into my embrace. And he wound his arms around me and we stood for a while, simply breathing in the other's presence, and the beating of my heart was eased.

I kissed his hair, and stroked it, and his scent was all around me. But he turned his head and pressed his mouth to mine and this kiss was what I truly needed. I tasted his softness, and his warmth, and rejoiced when he found courage to weave his hand into my hair as it fell down my back.

He grew bolder as we kissed and my hands began to wander. For suddenly I wanted more of him and my hands fell to his waist and brought him even closer. He flowed into me, his tongue teasing mine, and he cupped the back of my head and angled it carefully to his will. When we parted, I had lost my breath and he was glowing.

"Tell me," I said, and my voice was low, "how it is done?"

He blushed then and his gaze tumbled from my face to land on my chest. "There are ways."

"I would know them."

He nodded. "There is the sword… and the sheath." He licked his lips. "I would be the sheath."

I knew a twist of something hot, deep in my belly. "By choice?"

"Aye."

I slipped a finger under his chin and tilted his head backwards, and I smiled. "Do you always confess your desire with burning cheeks?"

But he would not meet my eyes even as I laboured to make it so and his voice had become frail. "No, my lord."

"Then what causes your embarrassment?"

"It is more difficult with you, my lord."

My hand drifted to his cheek and I stroked it. It was warm under my touch and it warmed even further under my caress.

"Give me a little more time," I said quietly. "Give me the time to speak with Glorfindel and Arwen. And my sons, when they return. Then I shall come to you and you may show me rather than tell."

He nodded again.

"Legolas," I said, firmer now, for still he would not look at me. "I do not desire secrecy, but I intend to go about this properly."

"Yes," he said, but his smile was faint. "I knew it would not be easy. Yet I confess I was hoping that..."

When he did not finish, I brought him close in that blue night and closed my eyes.

**TBC**


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

In the weeks that followed, Mithrandir stayed as tight-lipped about the purposes of his journeying westwards as he had on his arrival. This much he revealed: that he was of a mind to follow the Road further west, until he came to Bree and there might have news of the green lands where the Halflings dwelt. They were a quiet folk, I knew, content behind their hedgerows and among their fields, and little did I ever hear of their doings. As of late it seemed to me that Mithrandir's interest in them had steadily waxed, but seldom had I questioned him about it. He would open up to me, I expected, when – or if – he found reason to.

This did not deter him from converse or conference, however, and we spent many hours together, behind a closed door or – if the topic was less grim – wandering through my gardens. On occasion Erestor joined us, and so also Glorfindel, and we sorted through such news and reports that had come to us from the world yonder.

The weather dried up and the clouds scattered to allow a golden sunlight to fill the Valley and dance in my waterfalls, rivers and pools. The last pale wisps of mist were driven off and once again the branches of the trees stretched towards the light and new green buds and shoots appeared. Fragile flowers turned their pearly white heads to the sun and a rich scent of warming soil rose around us as we wove our way between the trees.

I am ashamed to say that in those days I oft found my thoughts straying, even under the sharp gaze of Mithrandir. Long ago I had learnt to put aside my own private concerns in favour of politics or battle plans, but now, as I stood by the edge of a glittering pool, I discovered that I yearned more for the company of Legolas than my old friend the Istar.

Few had been the opportunities to steal time alone with Legolas in the past days. Glorfindel was testing the prince's skills with bow and blade on the practice grounds, I knew, and from what I had heard they were both enjoying learning from each other. Glorfindel himself had finally admitted as much and it had stung my heart oddly to see the flush of pride in Legolas' cheeks when my Captain had spoken:

"It is fair to say, I suppose, that the elves of Mirkwood are not entirely incapable in battle."

There was a smudge of dirt on Legolas' dark green breeches and some of his hair had come loose from his braids. He had grinned at Glorfindel's words.

"Did I not once tell you as much, my lord?"

"Aye," said Glorfindel. He was in no better state himself: there was even a tear in his shirt, in his sleeve, near his wrist. "Though half of your technique is made up of trickery and deceit."

Legolas laughed at that and the sound of it made me want to wrap my arms around him. There, as we stood in a cascade of late afternoon sunlight, I desired only for that laugh to be directed at me instead. I felt at once far more ancient than Glorfindel: crumpled and boring, dusty as it were, and dimmed by the responsibilities and requirements that lay on me.

"If cunning and crafty we are," said Legolas, "it is only because our foe demands it of us. Else my people would have been obliterated by now." And though he spoke firmly, there was still in his eyes a light-hearted gleam.

"I hear you, my prince," said Glorfindel, "but beg of you to remember that I am no spider. For I will not serve Elrond better without my hand."

"It was said that in the Elder Days," I told him, forcing myself to rise above my own sudden spell of doubt, "Maedhros the Tall learnt to wield his blade with his left hand just as well as he had with his right. And was not Beren also called Erchamion, the One-handed?"

"Even so," said Glorfindel, "I would keep mine, if you do not mind." He inclined his head to Legolas, but he smiled.

And so also did Legolas, and the sunlight lay wrapped around him.

"Now that is settled," said Glorfindel, "and I am relieved. I shall leave you and wash."

We stood in silence, watching him make for the house, and it was not until he was out of sight that I turned to Legolas with a heart that beat at an uneven pace.

"Are you enjoying your stay?" I asked him, barely above my breath.

He tipped his head a little to the side and his eyes were keen on mine; they reflected the sated blue of the sky above.

"Yes, my lord," he said. "Though…"

I risked a step closer. His smile was a fleeting thing.

"I miss you," he confessed quietly, not quite daring to look me in the eye. "The lord Glorfindel is pleasant company and I enjoy the training. And your daughter I might one day dare to call my friend, and she is most lovely, but…" He bit his lip, the first time I had ever seen him do so, and he shook his head. "I have no right to lay a claim on your time, my lord."

I exhaled slowly. There rose an ache in me – and it flowed into my very fingertips – and I wanted so very much to hold him.

"Soon," I promised. Then, or I would have lost my ability to think, I motioned at him to walk with me back to the house. "But for now, speak to me of other things."

He nodded and we set a slow pace. At first, he said nothing but after a moment he looked up at me.

"I was going to ask," he said, "if I may stay for the Midsummer celebrations? I have been told that they are delightful. I know I must needs send word to my father, I realised as much the other day, when we spoke together in your study, my lord. But I have never before dwelt as a guest in another's home and so I know not what is appropriate or for how lo–

"Legolas," I said, cutting across him. I stopped and turned to him. "I would... It would please me very much."

He briefly glanced down before his smile deepened and the blue in his eyes shone. "I look forward to the celebrations, then."

I nodded. "Have you no such feast in Mirkwood?"

"We do," he said, "but I have seen that a thousand times and more. This shall be new to me."

And_ this _was new to me: his radiating presence and his eagerness – the yearning in me that urged me to take him in my arms and hold him through sundown and beyond sunrise. As he stood before me with the molten glow of the sun crowning his head, I saw in him new horizons and far-off borders and coasts, and into my heart crept both a love and a warning. For in that hour I perceived in him that something far greater than either of us could see was woven into his future, and it lay waiting for time to ripen; and it frightened me though it was yet hidden from sight.

"Legolas…" I said again, and ere I knew it I had reached for his hand and my fingers laced with his.

He was staring at me. I swallowed and wrapped my fingers more securely around his.

"Stay," I begged him quietly, fuelled by my vision and impressions. "Stay with me. I have no great Forest to offer, no vast woodlands, I know. But nonetheless I ask you to stay."

It was all too true: Imladris was nothing like the home he had always known and true also was the fact that this was something we should have discussed already. But I had been too captivated by the light in his face, in too great a need of him. Bonded elves could live apart if necessary. It was not desirable but it could be done. I was not sure I could bear it.

"Stay for as long as you wish."

For the longest time he did not move. His eyes were on my face, clear and searching. Then, finally, he nodded. I released him and, though it pained me, we resumed our walking.

The broad flight of stairs that led up to my front doors lay deserted when we reached them and we climbed them slowly, not one more word spoken between us. It proved a good thing, too, when we had reached the top and Mithrandir appeared to my right, as if conjured by air alone, at the other end of the balcony.

"Ah, Elrond!" He had taken off his hat and had rested his staff against a slender pillar. "There you are."

"Mithrandir," I said, surprised and torn between him and Legolas, coming to a halt half a step behind me. "I was just…"

"I would share a word with you," he interrupted me. "If you have the time?"

I glanced back at Legolas, a dismissal of Mithrandir's request already on my tongue, but Legolas gave a quick bow.

"I also shall seek out some water and soap," he said. "For I am not fit to sit down to supper like this."

He stood partly hidden behind me. That was why I dared to brush my fingertips to the back of his hand. There came a flicker of a smile across his lips but then he spun around on his heel and was gone. Heavily I turned back to the wizard but saw that a peculiar light was in his eyes, and the first sting of dread pierced my heart.

He beckoned me closer and though I went to him, I could scarcely feel my own feet. As soon as I had reached him, he picked up his staff and proceeded to guide me around the corner. Not until he had made himself comfortable on a bench that stood under a greening lilac, did he speak.

"So…" said he, "Thranduil's son is the reason for why you are once more in tune with the world, and yet closed off from it."

I stared at him. "I have not…"

But I failed to deny it and lowered my head into my hands and sighed.

"Not so, Elrond," he chuckled. "Love should never be the bringer of despair, though it was often so, it seems. Do not attempt to hide it from me," he advised gently, "for I see it clearly."

"Your eyes are keen and sharper than most," I said. "It is yet a secret."

I heard him shift where he sat. "Not for long, I deem," he said. "For there is a fire like the Sun's in young Legolas' face when he looks at you, and you seem pleased enough."

"But there is yet much to be said between us," I told him, and now I lifted my head. "As a way of love this is unusual and I fear Thranduil will have a thing or two to say about it."

"Oh, to be sure," he said. But there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Mithrandir," I began in a tone of warning, but he waved that aside.

"You think this is unusual," he said, but his face softened and he spoke gently. "Yet you would do well to remember that I have lived longer than you and seen much more. Too often we think that our own troubles and challenges are unique and that no one will ever understand us."

I leaned back against the railing and was grateful for its support. "But this _is_ uncommon," I persisted.

"Maybe so," he said. "But is it a bad thing?"

"No," I said, after a while. It seemed to me now that the memory of the dark days when the singing in my soul was silenced lay in some faraway past, lost among half-forgotten shadows.

"It is said that the memory of an Elf never fails," I said quietly, "and yet it feels so long ago that I did not see the Sun."

He smiled, then. "I am glad, Elrond," he said, "and as for what others shall make of this, pay it little heed. They are all fools, after all."

**TBC**


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

As the weather improved, the stream of travellers on the Road swelled and the number of guests in my halls increased. If I had had precious little time alone with Legolas before, I now spent even fewer hours in his company and the ache near my heart intensified. It was a form of yearning I could not remember having felt before and it made me rather restless. At night, as thin clouds chased across the star-strewn sky, that ache spread: from my heart and over my skin, into my blood to sink deep into my very bones.

I did, however, take great pleasure in watching Legolas greet two of the mortal race for the very first time and his eyes lingered long on their forms. They were Men of the northern lands, not of Haled's tribe but related to them, and they appeared trustworthy enough. Their speech was roughened by many years of wandering across the lands and Mithrandir spent long hours in converse with them by a warming fire to which they always seemed drawn.

It was on one such evening that I suddenly found myself more or less alone with Legolas. Arwen had wished us goodnight and Glorfindel had joined Mithrandir and the men by the hearth and their backs were turned to us. Of Erestor there was no sign. So there we stood: face to face, with the gentle murmur of conversation blending with the crackle of the fire.

It was not very late, yet the blue night was shifting to a velvety black and the stars glinted of silver in the sky. Ithil was climbing the heavens and no breeze sifted through the grass. And it was then that I looked into the eyes of Legolas, felt a tumble of something through my breast, and knew.

Swallowing, I set down my glass on the small table beside us. A flicker of nervousness woke in my belly as my gaze fell on the glass he was holding. I held my breath as I gently took his glass from his hands, too, and placed it beside my own. He did not protest.

"Come," I said, as quietly as I could.

Nor did he protest as I led the way out of there. He did not question me as I guided him to my chambers. But outside my door I paused and looked at him.

Here the moonlight did not reach us but there was no need for to my eyes the radiance of Legolas was greater than stars and Moon combined. There, in that darkening night, overwhelmed by his light, I reached for him – as if I was utterly desperate. And perhaps I was so, but he placed his hand in mine and we entered my private chambers.

My sitting-room was dark and so I lit a couple of lamps. Legolas remained in the centre of the floor as I did this, but I could feel his gaze on me and the weight of it made my breath come unevenly. Then, before I lost my courage, I slipped off my robe and turned to him dressed in only my shirt and leggings.

His eyes were wide. They travelled all over me and they were a stormy hue and shimmering. I slowly came up to him where he stood. The light of the lamps set him aglow from different directions and softened his features but there was a hint of wariness about him too.

"I know," I began softly, "that I told you I wished to wait…"

He nodded.

"But I have not the strength," I admitted. "I see you: so alive, so joyful, with Glorfindel, and I feel… old."

A frown settled in his face, then. "Old, my lord?"

"Aye," I said, and air rushed out of me in a great exhale. "I feel old. It is long since I left sparring and training behind. I have become the scholar, burdened with responsibility, though not to my disliking. Yet when I see you with Glorfindel, when you return from practice, I envy him. For he equals you in spirit and passion."

"And now you wish to prove yourself just as passionate, my lord?" And for the first time he chided me.

"Can you blame me for it?"

He did not reply at once. His eyes had narrowed slightly and he was watching me intently. At long last, he sighed.

"I wish it not," he said. "For I do not desire love if it is rooted in jealousy."

I was ashamed, then. And made to turn away from him, but his hand on my arm stayed me. There was a glimmer in his eyes as he beheld me, and he spoke:

"Try again, my lord, if you will. Why am I in your chambers?"

A great rush of something I had no name for washed over me: it was relief and love – to be sure – but also much gratitude. I lifted my hand to his cheek and cupped it. If I had seen sharp lines in his face before they were now gone and I traced his cheekbone with my thumb.

"For you are in my heart," I said. "Even as I hold you I yearn for you."

And he smiled, and my mouth found his at last. He tasted of wine at first. _That_ I did not desire, so I deepened the kiss until I knew nothing but the sweetness that was his tongue against my own. My arms went around his waist and I drew him so close that our chests came together and he must drop his head back to kiss me properly. I lost my breath and every thought as his palms smoothed over my shoulders, but a fire stirred within me instead and I caught his lower lip between my teeth.

His moan moved through me as my fingers wove into his hair. His braids were tight and expertly tied together; I would have to work long for to be able to comb my fingers freely through his golden tresses. But it did not matter for Legolas once again deepened the kiss and dropped his hands to my waist. I left his mouth then and kissed my way down his neck and a new string of his faint moans sank into me.

The stillness of the night lay wrapped around us when I dropped a last kiss to his lips and finally opened my eyes. He was, in that moment, everything. And so it was that I led him to my bedchamber.

Here I lit no lamps for moonlight spilled through the window and filled the room with liquid silver-white. And here I took Legolas in my arms again and we moved onto the bed without a word. Without knowing what I was doing, but not daring to question myself, I found his hands and stretched out on of top him.

I knitted our fingers together and looked down at him – into his face, where shock had rolled in like morning mist.

"My lord…" He did not speak above a whisper.

I wished I could lift aside my hair as it fell to the sides of my face but I could not let him go lest I should lose that precarious hold on my determination. I had no energy to spare anything other than the sensation of his body pressing against mine.

"What happens now, Legolas?"

He was thinking hard and fast, I suspected. Overthinking, most probably. I saw it in that gaze: the way it flittered from my lips to my brow to my eyes.

"Nothing," he said, with a shake of his golden head into the pillow.

"Only this?"

"Only this," he affirmed, but his breathing was changed, I perceived, and his lips had parted.

"What if I were any other elf?" I asked quietly. My heart, I was sure, had stopped beating.

He licked his lips and my attention was automatically drawn to them. There was a thread of tension in his voice when he finally spoke:

"But you are not, my lord."

He was right, of course, and playing at such games would be pointless and a waste of time. But my mind was not my own to command any longer. As if from a distance, I saw myself dip my head and brush my lips against Legolas', feeding off the small intake of breath that followed my boldness, and I heard my own murmur over his skin:

"But if I were?"

He did not reply by way of speaking. Instead, one of his hands slipped from my loose grasp and, after a moment of hesitation, came to land on my hip. When I did not object, it snaked between our bodies and I lifted myself up a little, not looking at anything but his wide grey-blue eyes. I felt him adjust under my weight as his hand did something I was too unfamiliar with to yet understand. Then, again, his hand came to my hip and he urged me back down, flush against him.

And the shock was suddenly mine to handle. There was colour now, painted high on his cheeks, and he would not meet my gaze directly.

He had hardened. It was all I could think for a moment. His length, in his soft woollen breeches had hardened while he had lain pressed into me and now it was pushing into my own groin. I could not respond to this, neither with words nor action.

He must have read this in my face. "My lord," he whispered, on an exhale, "I am sorry, I…"

I swallowed. "No."

And I saw in him the sudden fear of my displeasure – at having broken across unspoken boundaries and risked my anger. So it was that I gathered what I could of my scattered wits and tumbling impulses.

"No…" I repeated, surprising myself at the softness in my own voice. "Not so."

I shifted on top of him and, with a hefty dose of nervousness sliding down my spine, I felt his arousal still intact against me. Then, I placed my hands on either side of his face and leaned in. The kiss was hesitant at first and no more than a brush of lips together and shared unease. Then, slowly, he relaxed, parting a little and opening up. When his tongue met mine, there came warmth again, moving through my breast, and I could not help my smile, and I dove deeper.

I slid off him to lie on my side and he followed, his hand coming to rest, ever so lightly, on my waist. Face to face, the kiss was almost ended until he captured my lower lip and smiled, he too.

When it truly came to an end, his gaze had lost its skittish edge and instead of that sharp streak of red just under his eyes there was a beautiful rosiness in his cheeks. His smile returned as I lifted a hand and brushed his hair back.

"I am sorry," I said, "for my reaction."

There came into the dusty blue a rueful and self-conscious glint. "I should not have–"

But I pressed a finger to his lips. "This was my doing, Legolas. You are…" I drew a breath and, unbidden, my gaze drifted downward to snag on the gently swollen mound in his leggings. "I desire you."

Warily, I removed my finger and stroked his cheek instead. Then I cupped the back of his head and he flowed into me like the dawn. His lips on mine were full and soft, and his hand on my waist an increasing pressure. Bathed in moonlight, he scooted closer until it was I who lay on my back with him curling around me. Then his hand moved and he smoothed his palm over my chest even as he kissed me. I felt his warmth through my shirt, felt it trace a line of fire in my skin. His hand drifted to my hip and for a moment everything stood perfectly still. Then, to an explosion of the heat within, he covered my length with his hand and shook my foundations.

He did not find me hard, but nor did he seem to mind. I drowned myself in his next kiss as he palmed me through the wool. And he traced my length and smiled, and perhaps it was that smile which truly woke desire in me, and I felt myself respond to his touch. I swelled under his strokes and saw a light that I had forgotten, and yet had never before beheld. He moved with me as I arched back and his exhale against my neck was the warm wind of summer. His murmur set my skin tingling:

"Is this enough?"

I could not open my eyes but I shook my head.

**TBC**


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Legolas lay on top of me, or maybe it was the Moon. Or perhaps night was gone and day had come again and there was such dazzling sunlight as when Laurelin was first born in the Elder Days. In that moment, it did not matter. His fine tunic and shirt lay discarded at the foot of the bed and he had opened my leggings, and his own, and his length against mine was sensation I had no word for.

I was holding him. I was never going to let him flee.

He moved against me, brilliant like a flame. His mouth was on mine, my hands were on his waist and my hips found the rhythm of his song. I thought I had known lust but now I was not so sure. His will was my own and his desire mounted in me. When his length pressed into mine, the sound I made was like nothing I recognised. His breathing was my breathing, or we did not breathe at all. My heartbeat was a drumming that echoed in my blood and I rose to meet his every impulse. When we reached the end at last, and the light of every star exploded in the sky, I knew nothing but the keening moan of Legolas and the way he held on to me, and how I loved him.

Awareness slowly returned to me. He had melted into me and his breathing was deep and even. He lay outstretched, the most welcome weight I had ever borne. When at last I found strength, I stroked my hands over his back and let go of a long breath. I lifted my head and kissed his golden hair.

He stirred, then, and I felt a tension seize him. When he made to raise himself up, I gently pressed him back down.

"No…" I whispered, "stay."

And so he did, and I closed my eyes and drifted off into dreams of summer.

o.O.o

Midnight was dark. Ithil had continued on, leaving us swathed in shades of soft black and silver starlight. That was when he finally slid off me and I saw his face again. He seemed unsure how to even look at me and instead proceeded to fumble with the laces of his breeches. I quickly closed my own, though I knew we both ought to wash. He pulled on his shirt as well but when he was done, he sat for a moment, plainly in hesitation.

"Legolas…" I said softly, looking up at him from my position on the bed, "what is your desire?"

His head whipped around. He was pale among the shadows. Not the faintest touch of a breeze toyed with my curtains.

"Do you wish to leave?"

"No, my lord."

I smiled, relieved. "Then lie back down and do not look at me as if I am about to throw you to the wolves."

His smile in turn was hesitant and maybe there was in it also a pinch of embarrassment. Almost cautiously, he curled around me and I twisted my head to press a kiss to his forehead.

"You have no wolves, my lord," he murmured against my shoulder.

I chuckled. "True," I said. "Though I am sure Mithrandir could conjure a few if I asked it of him."

"I would rather you did not," he said. "Though I should like to see his magic," he added after a pause, "for I cannot imagine what it would be like."

"The magic of the Istari can be a wondrous thing to behold," I told him. "Wonderful and dreadful. But then, so is the case with many things in this world."

I lifted myself up to look down at him. His golden hair spread around his head and his clear eyes were glimmering.

"Tomorrow I shall speak with Glorfindel," I said, as if I had decided this long ago. Indeed, ere this very moment. "Mithrandir already knows for not much escapes him."

At this, Legolas visibly paled but said nothing. I traced one of his cheekbones with my fingertips, brushing them lightly against his fair skin. It made him squirm and he turned his head to the side, away from me.

"My lord… Do not look at me like that."

I cupped his cheek to guide his eyes back to mine but he evaded my gaze. "Like what? How should I not look at you?"

"Like… I am some treasure." The cheekbone I had just caressed flushed with a shade of pink, visible even here among the shadows of night.

"Yet you are. You have my love," I told him, softly. "All my love."

But he laughed a weak laugh and half-twisted away again. "Nay, not all your love." He struggled to sit, his linen undershirt, creased but soft, hung loose around him and he was everything I desired. But he shook his head at me. "You love this Valley, and so also your sons and your daughter, and your people…"

He could have added _wife,_ but he did not.

"And that is as it should be," he went on. "I could only ever ask for a share of your love."

"Very well…" I, in his place, lay back down. I turned my face to regard him, from below now – as I would watch the Sun. "You have it."

He shook his head again, but a new smile was curving his lips. "Where did the Lord of Imladris go, who would never speak so freely of love?"

"You corrupted him."

He moved closer again, to tower over me, the bed dipping as he settled by my side. "Do you resent me for it? In any way?"

"_Resent_ you?"

"Aye, for I am a complication."

I lifted my hand to run my fingertips up his arm. "Aye, it is so," I admitted. "But had I never met you, I would still walk shrouded in sorrow. From that doom you saved me…" I creased his shirt further, willing to guide him down to lie beside me again. "You healed my heart and soul."

"You do not regret anything, then?"

I frowned. "Tell me, where did the prince of the Woodland realm go, who, at least on occasion, would speak so freely of love?"

His gaze slid sideways. "It has become very real. You asked of me to see you as any elf but I cannot."

"Legolas." I pushed up onto my elbows as a flicker of true fear turned in my stomach. "Tell me, do you regret this?"

"No!" He briefly closed his eyes. "No, I could never. But your family and friends did not choose this, my lord. If I by my pursuit of you have tainted your relationship with them, I could never forgive myself. Many believe this to be unnatural and–"

"Silence."

His eyes were stormy but I could read only fear in them, not conviction. I, too, struggled to sit, the bed dipping under me as I moved.

"That is enough. If this is _unnatural_ then why was it brought into being? And how? How were _you_ created, Legolas? By what means? Or were you made by some dark and evil magic outside the reach of the Valar?"

I needed to fight hard to be allowed to meet his gaze. "The will of Ilúvatar is in everything. It was He who gave life to the Valar and they are creation. You are their creature, by song conceived, and thus you are of them."

"Yet from the very beginning there was discord," he said quietly.

"You…" I stared at him and must fight to form any words. "You think the manner of your love was created through the rebellion against the One?"

He opened his mouth but would not at once reply. "I… My lord, this is… I cannot say."

"Nay, you will hear me." I took him by the shoulders and held him firmly. "This is love and we have spoken of love before: it is _light, _not darkness that fills my heart and which I see in you. This you may not doubt."

It drew a small sigh from him. "My father was ever ill pleased with my ways. I fear he would–"

"Thranduil knows. Not of _this_," I let him go to make some vague gesture to indicate what was between us, "but he knows the ways of your heart and he does not condemn you for it."

I could not tell if he looked more repulsed than shocked, or if it was the other way around.

"You have spoken of it?" His voice was tight.

"Once, briefly," I admitted. "For he sought from me advice on the matter. It was before I met you."

At my words he grimaced and looked as though he would once more like to move away from me. "You and he have… So you knew?"

"What did I know?"

"When I first approached you? You knew…" His eyes were wider now and he had paled again.

It was with intention that I did not touch him. "I knew _about_ you. Then later… I could not fathom that I could ever be of interest to you, in any such fashion."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

My gaze dropped to my own knees, for now I was the one who found it difficult to speak and there came as if a heavy weight upon my shoulders. Suddenly, I was grateful for the darkness even though I knew Legolas could see me as perfectly as I could him. I sighed.

"For I am beyond you in years, Legolas. I was weary of the world, having seen too much of pain and sorrow. Truly, I was worn out."

"You were magnificent."

And so it became my turn to twist away in sudden discomfort, but his hand landed on mine. His hand was on my arm. Again, the bed shifted as he closed the distance between us and pushed me back down. His mouth came to cover mine and I wrapped my arms around him until I had him so close that his heartbeat could have been mine own.

My hands moved over his back. I teased his shirt upwards and found his smooth skin underneath. I ghosted my fingertips over it and he shivered in my arms, even as his tongue twined with mine. Then he rolled off me and now his shirt had ridden up to expose the flat plain of his belly. I touched him there and caressed a pattern into the skin. His smile was within reach and I kissed him again and felt him melt against me. From the dip of his navel, the faintest trail of light blond hair led down into his breeches. I followed it with my thumb as far as I could reach and then splayed my fingers over his skin. His eyes opened on mine and they had darkened.

"I do not regret this," he whispered.

I reached further down and we both allowed my hand to wander over the mound in his breeches. He gave a small moan as I cupped the growing bulge and pressed down gently:

"Please."

I leaned in to kiss him and he opened his mouth fully on mine. Courage came to me as I touched him, as if only in the performing of such an act could I truly test my conviction, and perhaps that was the way it should be. I bared his length before my eyes and found that the sight did not shock me. Instead, it built a fire within me and I reached for him.

I treated him much like he had done me or as I had once upon a time had myself treated: I explored the length of him and discovered how firmly he liked to be stroked. I revealed the tip and teased the slit there so that his eyes fluttered closed and his hands fisted in the covers. Bending down, I pressed my mouth to his and kissed him until he, on a moan that made me shudder, succumbed to release.

He was the Sun and though it was never in the nature of the Elves to worship it, the light of Legolas I would worship forever.

**TBC**


	26. Chapter 25

Sorry for the delay, I was away for the weekend. As always, thank you for reading!

**Chapter 25**

Anor had long since risen when we finally made it out of bed. In the shafts of sunlight that fell in through my window, Legolas appeared as one of them. Gingerly he pulled his creased linen shirt over his head, and his tunic, but his hair was beyond redemption.

I came over to him and his hands left his tousled locks immediately to land on my waist and pull me close. He pressed his face into my neck and left kisses there, and a shiver raced through me. I held him tight to me and wished indeed that I were any other elf, and free to return to bed with him, or simply stay here, in the middle of the floor, where no demands were made of me.

"Come to my study," I told him, "when you have washed and eaten. I shall drive Mithrandir and his pipe-weed out of there."

He pulled back a little. "Pipe-weed?"

"Aye…" I toyed with one of his half-loosened braids. "He has been very considerate these past weeks, I suppose, for he knows I do not like it. But soon enough the smoke shall invade every corner of the house."

Legolas shook his head. "You speak in riddles, my lord."

"Be grateful that you do not understand them," I said. "It is a habit he picked up from those of the Periannath who live west of here, in Bree."

"And, pray, what are those?" His eyes glittered. "Orcs, I gather? From the dark look on your face."

"Not orcs," I told him, "but a peaceful folk. They are private and keep to themselves. I should hold nothing against them if they had not begun growing the leaves Mithrandir so stubbornly persists in smoking."

Legolas laughed at this. "You are full of surprises, my lord. This is a new layer I had not perceived in you before."

I caught his hand in mine and kissed it. "Do you disapprove?"

He shook his head and the sunlight danced around him. "Nay. For it makes you less… lordly, I think."

Thoughtfully, I brushed his knuckles with the pad of my thumb. "I am not _your_ lord, Legolas."

Before me, Legolas' smile softened and so also did the light in his eyes. And he moved closer to rest his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes.

o.O.o

As it turned out, my study was empty when I finally entered it. Mithrandir, I was told, had left with the two Rangers just after breakfast and no one knew when he would be back. Erestor – the only soul beside Mithrandir who ever dared to disturb anything in there – had left some letters on my desk and a couple of scrolls for my scrutiny. There was dried fruit and water in a carafe, and two glasses. All of it appeared untouched.

More than two hours must have passed when there came a knock on the door and at my call, Legolas was revealed on the threshold. Though it was not long at all since I had last laid eyes on him, it was as though my heart lifted and my breathing was eased.

"Do I disturb you?" he asked.

"Never," I told him, rising as I spoke. "Come here."

He had washed and dressed in a pale green tunic. I caught him by the waist and brought him against me, his back to my chest. When I buried my face in his hair he smelled only of the leaves that lifted in the gentle wind that floated through the Valley. With a content sigh, I joined our mouths together for already it seemed to me too long since I had last tasted him.

I let my lips linger on his, even as he smiled, and then I bent to press a kiss to that soft spot just beneath his earlobe. He drew me even closer, secured my arms around his waist and gave a low hum. So wrapped up in his light was I that I did not hear the approaching footsteps and neither did Legolas, and so it was only when a polite cough broke through the stillness that we both started.

Legolas might have flown from me had I not already held him so tightly but both our heads whipped around and then he stiffened into rock

There stood, in the arched doorway, with a fine golden eyebrow raised, Glorfindel.

None of us said anything. Legolas, I was sure, did not breathe. His scent lay still wrapped around me and my lips were tingling with the memory of our latest kiss.

Then Glorfindel, at last, spoke, and his voice was dry:

"Well..." said he, "I see there was no cause for alarm."

I swallowed as I watched him firmly close the door and then march into the room and make for the carafe that stood on the side-table. Leisurely, he picked it up and poured himself a glass of water. As for myself, I found I could not move and up through my breast was creeping an uncomfortable hotness that squeezed my throat tight.

"My lord…" began Legolas, but his voice came faint.

"Glorfindel," I managed, but he only shook his head impatiently.

"Be silent," said he.

His sharp gaze settled on Legolas. "For you, my prince, as I know you, the song of your heart is ever in your eyes. And, you, Elrond," he motioned at me with his glass, "are none the better. In truth, I have never seen you thus. As commander, I have seen you. Fierce in battle. And as a healer and father and a student of lore, patient and kind. But never like this."

There came into his eyes a familiar gleam. "Never in love like this," he said. "And so if you thought you were doing well concealing your love, I will tell you now: it is not so. Indeed, you have done poorly. The both of you."

Then there was silence. But I found that I could finally move and so, in a tentative caress, I carefully slid my palm over Legolas' hand where it lay on my arm. He did not stir and his skin was cool to the touch. This, more than anything – more than Glorfindel's sharp gaze on us – caused me to regain my wits.

"May I speak now?" I asked Glorfindel.

"It depends," he said, "on what you were planning to say." He strode over to one of my chairs – the one Erestor favoured – and sat down.

"I intended to tell you," I said. "Truly," I added, when he snorted. "Today, in fact. But found you not when I searched for you."

"An extensive search, I presume?"

"You were not at breakfast," I tried.

"Elrond," he said tartly, "it was you who were not at breakfast. And Legolas, too, was missing. Do you think us all entirely witless? Or blind perhaps?"

When I found nothing to say to that he shook his head.

"It was Erestor who thought to bring at least something to your study," he nodded at the fruit and water, "for he worries for you, Elrond. Faithfully he serves you and fears often that some new grief shall befall you, and that it shall be that blow which finally smites you and tears your _fëa_ from your _hröa_. The Valar know we have all dreaded it."

My lips had gone dry and surely my hands were as cold as Legolas'. But now Legolas was turning in my arms and there was in his face distress of a kind I had never seen in him before.

"Does he speak true?"

I looked into his face and it was pale as the first blossoms in spring. Under my feet, the floor was wavering.

"Do I speak true?" said Glorfindel, from his seat. "Have I myself wondered how much more pain Elrond might endure? Aye, I have, and many times at that."

Into Legolas had crept a new form of light and I knew it all too well, for it had been kindled in the eyes of my family almost forty years ago, and it was fear.

"When you spoke of the darkness in your soul, my lord," he said quietly, "you did not lie…"

I shook my head, unable to speak. Just when I thought he would slip away from me, he once again secured my hold on him. His voice sank almost to a murmur:

"And when you said that it had been chased away by sunlight...?"

I swallowed. "Aye," I said, but it was a cracked whisper, "_I _spoke true, then."

The coldness was gone from his skin when he touched me – when he stroked his fingertips down my cheek and caught the tears that spilled from my eyes. When he cupped my cheek and placed a kiss on my lips, and when I rested my forehead against his. He was warm and comforting and his light gentle as he held me, and I felt the world settle a little more steadily around me.

It was long before any of us moved. When Legolas and I finally parted it felt to me as if years unnumbered had passed. Glorfindel was still seated and the air unmoving.

"I will say I am glad that we journeyed to your father's halls," my Captain said at last. "You have my gratitude, son of Thranduil."

Legolas inclined his head at him. "And you have mine, my lord. For not cursing this."

Then Glorfindel rose and he smiled as he came up to us. "It has pleased me greatly to see the shadow over Imladris lifted. And also to discover that our worry this morning was entirely unfounded."

I caught his eye and in that moment I had no words for him. "Thank you," I said finally, though it surely was inadequate.

At this he only nodded and then he left us, carefully closing the door behind him.

o.O.o

If I had expected any more uncomfortable confrontations that day, I was disappointed. Erestor, when he finally showed up, did not ask a single question. Indeed, he did not in any way indicate that he knew more of my own private business that he had a moon or two ago. Instead, he spread a map over my desk and tapped it with a finger.

"Trade, my lord," he said, "is the topic of the day."

But when we joined the others for supper, I found Arwen and Legolas by a window and their heads were together. I saw at once the deep shade of red in his cheeks and how his gaze swiftly darted from her to me. She smiled then and left him there to join me, and she dropped a quick kiss to my cheek.

"I had hoped it was so," she said, without waiting for me to speak. "I thought I had spied as much, but never dared to ask. I am well pleased, father."

I shook my head. "You all conspire against us. Or you are all too sharp-eyed."

"Nay," said she, and laughed. "For no keen eyesight is needed in this case, I promise you. You give yourselves away."

And so it was that we were arranged differently around the table that night for Glorfindel left his usual seat to Legolas who slid into it warily. Under the table, I found his hand and when I squeezed it he looked at me and he appeared somewhat dazed. But he laced his fingers with mine and I smiled.

"Oh, this shall soon grow wearisome," said Glorfindel and nodded at us. "Elrond, you are grinning like a lovesick elfling. Valar help us."

But his eyes were warm and his smile even more so, and even though they made Legolas shift self-consciously in his seat, there was no sting in his words.

"My brothers have yet to learn of it, though," said Arwen.

It was true, and this should have been a troubling thought. But when I later looked to Legolas, and he appeared to finally have relaxed, I knew that would be nothing compared to telling Thranduil. And that prospect was not at all appealing.

**TBC**


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

So the days passed. Rain came again for a time but was eventually chased northwards by blue skies and the calls of many birds. As spring gradually melted into early summer, the doors to the Last Homely House stood open and we welcomed several more travellers who were weary of the road and of sleeping among ferns and tussocks. One evening, just as the first stars pricked the velvety blue above, a small party of dwarves ambled up the stairs to my front doors, and great was the surprise of Legolas.

"Your eyes are so wide I am sure you will never manage to close them again," I heard Glorfindel say to him. We stood just inside the chamber where the dwarves sat huddled together by the fireside.

The dwarves had come through the Redhorn Pass at great peril, that much I understood from their gruff mutterings. Reluctant they were to speak but I gathered that they had lost their way after that and had wandered the slopes of the Hithaeglir for some time ere they stumbled upon the path that lead them to Imladris. Now they were murmuring among themselves in front of the fireplace, glad, I perceived, to have a roof over their heads again. Their cloaks had been taken away for washing and mending but that was as much as they would let my people do – except for housing and feeding them.

"Questions shall have to wait till tomorrow," I said to Erestor in an undertone. "If they are of Durin's folk, they might well have news from the Iron Hills."

"They spoke of unrest in the Misty Mountains," said he, "that much I thought I understood from them."

"That is hardly news," I said.

But there was a frown about him. "This is something new, I think. Or something old that we have not yet heard of until now."

I looked long upon him for Erestor would seldom give in to speculation and nor was he particularly foresighted.

"Very well," I said at last. "I will heed your words and keep them in mind."

With that, I turned to Legolas where he stood with Glorfindel. "Have you looked your full?" I smiled at him.

It appeared he drew his gaze from the dwarves with some difficulty.

"My brother once came upon some of the Naugrim," he said slowly, "and told such tales afterwards that I could scarce believe him. Clumsy, he said they were, with hands bigger than their feet and beards as long as their cloaks." He gave a weak smile. "The last part was true enough, I see."

"Save for that bit about the beards, that sounds to me more like Trolls," I said. "Though their numbers have dwindled and they are rarely seen by anyone outside the borders of the darkened realm."

"Maybe so," said Legolas. "Though now I am not sure what to believe."

I would have liked to slide an arm around his waist and draw him close but since we were not alone I stayed myself.

"They wield axes, like the Sindar in Elder Days, and short swords," said Glorfindel with a nod at the dwarves. "And they are never clumsy. Perhaps on the morrow we might persuade one to join us in the practice field." He raised a brow at Legolas.

"_On the morrow_," I said, "I shall hold converse with them and then see them on their way for, as I understood it, they are not keen on staying."

Glorfindel sighed. "Ever the politics, never the fun. Oh well, it was worth a try." Then he winked at us. "I think I shall leave you to attend them. Come Erestor, if you fancy a glass of wine?"

"Hardly," said Erestor.

Legolas turned to me and his smile was one that filled me with a fluttering light.

"My lord," he said quietly, "if you have no intention of questioning them tonight…" He let the unspoken words hang between us and I tasted the promise in them.

And so we bid Erestor goodnight and made for my chambers. Despite the taunts from my family regarding the way in which we looked at each other, I hoped we were discreet enough. Because for as long as Thranduil in his caves remained uninformed we were not free to display our relationship openly. This, I knew, was my own fault but Legolas feared his father's anger and I could not bring myself to discuss the matter with him. Not when my bed bathed in moonlight and he stretched out upon it, and not afterwards either, when he lay sated in my arms.

But now I was freeing him of his undershirt and it fell to the floor like a billowing cloud. He stood before me, then, with his chest bared, shimmering in the moonlight. And I removed my own shirt, and he traced a line from my collarbone to my waist with his fingertips, causing a shiver to race across my skin.

Then, for the first time like this, he fingered my breeches and fixed his eyes on mine. I nodded. His lips parted just a little as he undid the laces. Carefully, he pushed the fabric down past my hips and I was revealed to him.

"May I remove yours?" I asked, and my voice wove itself into the moonlight. "Or would you rather I grew a beard to my knees?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Is that a possibility, my lord?"

"Would you like it?"

But he laughed and shook his head. "In truth it would scare me greatly."

Stepping out of my breeches, I smiled. "That is good to know."

"Indeed." He caught my hand and brought it to his laces. "We shall have to do without the beard, it seems. I will do my very best to suffer through this night without it."

"Hm," I said, and then I set to work on the knots even as I lowered my mouth to his.

I hardened without his touch. Indeed, I was set aflame by his kiss alone. The knots were impossible to undo and I found myself breaking the kiss to be able to focus and yet I was hard for him. His eyes were burning as if my fire was his.

"These are unconquerable," I decided, and heard myself how a rasp had come into my voice.

He had hardened, too. Under the fabric, his length was swollen and straining.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but then something came into his face and he never did. Instead, with a peculiar smile, he sank to his knees in the moonlight and just then I understood nothing. But _then_… Oh, then I understood, and the explosion of a heat so intense I feared I would turn to ashes, claimed me and I stared down as Legolas licked his lips. And then he took my length in a light grasp and guided it to his mouth, and he kissed it.

My vision swam before me as he took me into his mouth. It was warm and wet and he pressed his tongue to the underside of my length so that I felt myself swaying. My breath went out of my body as he dipped his head and took in even more of me. His fingers slid down to the very base of my risen flesh and then, with gentle motion, he began to suck me.

My moan wrapped around us and my hands came to his head. I had no intention of guiding him, or setting a pace, but only needed to hold on to something. His rocking back and forth, the pressure of his lips and the feel of his hair overwhelmed me, and my blood sizzled. He pulled back, letting me almost slip from his lips before he took me into his mouth again and I slid inside so willingly. He revealed the head of my length and laved at it with his tongue and his teeth scraped the sensitive ridge just underneath it. I moaned again then and he repeated the action and made me shudder.

Like this we moved, his mouth warm around me, even as I lost my control to the heat and began rocking my hips to meet him. Then he tightened his hold on me and his sucking intensified and now he, too, moaned. His other hand came to my hip and he held on to me as I anchored myself in him. He swallowed around me and stars glimmered in the hazy moonlight. A glorious fire was building along my spine and it soon blinded me. Nothing I saw but nor did I have to for all I needed was Legolas' mouth on my length, and the way that he teased the slit with his tongue tip and coaxed pearly liquid to spill forth.

He kissed it away, licked at the tip and took me in his mouth again. Unseeing, I pushed inside, seeking only more of his warmth. His lips tightened around me and his other hand left my hip to cup the sac beneath my length. I stumbled on that already shaky breath and then I felt a great wave crash through my body. I had no time to warn him for ere I knew it, moonlight was transforming into a blaze and my release was upon me. But Legolas' mouth was still around my length and when I emptied myself he swallowed and I felt myself dissolve.

When he finally allowed me to slip from his lips, my mind was blank. All I knew was that he stood and that my hand was in his and that he kissed it. But it was not what I wanted and so I reached for him and exchanged my hand for my lips and opened them on his. I knew I was tasting myself on him but it did not strike me as strange. He was fused with me, with his tongue twining with my own and his fingers in my hair.

Without breaking the kiss, I steered him towards the bed and we sank down upon it. Only then did we part and my heart nearly burst in my breast when I looked at him.

"You are…" I lifted a hand to his cheek. "I have no words."

His smile was soft. "You were beautiful, my lord."

I shook my head, my eyes unwilling to leave his. "How is it that you have come to me?" I traced his jawline gently with my knuckles.

When he would have turned his face away, I brought him back. "I love you," I said. "And I will never let you go."

"I would never allow you to," he said. "For I love you with all my heart." And he kissed me.

There, swathed in moonlight, we lay down, and the knots that were his laces were finally conquered, and I found him hard and willing. Therefore, I encircled his length with my fingers and stroked him so that he arched back against the pillows. It was then that I bent my head and kissed one of his nipples and his next breath became a moan. So I kissed him there again and took the nub between my teeth and worried it gently, and now he almost came off the bed. Into his pleasure my laughter was woven and I rubbed my thumb over the satiny head of his length.

Had his mouth never descended on me I would have pushed at him. I knew this without thinking. My hips would have sought a rhythm and I would have craved the dance. Swollen and aching I would have lain against him, perhaps even seeking a way in between his legs to find there whatever was to be found. I desired it even now, even though my release had been so fulfilling. And so it was that I pushed him onto his side, with my hand still on his length; but I pressed into him and my kisses were lost in his hair. But my hips moved against his and I drank down his every tremor and smile, and I wanted everything.

**TBC**


	28. Chapter 27

Happy holidays!

**Chapter 27**

Three days later, the sound of hooves once more raced to my window and there were voices too, and cheerful calls. I rose at once and went to the window, and the great relief that washed through me brought my shoulders down and a broad smile to my face.

Elladan was swinging off his horse, black hair gleaming in the sunlight, and he looked unharmed. And there was Elrohir, still ahorse but giving orders with ease, and if he were in any way wounded it did not show.

Many were gathered in the courtyard as I came there and luggage and weapons were being carried off.

"Father!" Elladan spied me on the stairs and he came to greet me. His boots were dusty and his breeches were worn and soiled around the knees.

I caught him in a fierce embrace and only afterwards looked into his face. He was smiling.

"Are you returned unscathed?"

"Aye," he said. "And Elrohir, too." He threw a glance over his shoulder at his twin. "But many orcs we have slain and burned."

But now Elrohir was joining us and though there was a smudge of something dark on his cheek it appeared Elladan had spoken truthfully.

"See, father," he grinned, "here we are, ere Midsummer. As was your command."

"I see that and I am glad," I told him, and embraced him long. "Stay a while, will you not?"

They exchanged a look and just when I thought they had returned only to leave me again, Elladan nodded.

"We will," he said. "For Aragost's rule remains mostly unthreatened. This time, our paths took us rather nearer to the roots of the Mountains than into open fields."

I eyed him closely, recalling the mutterings of the dwarves ere they hurried off. Precious little had I learnt from them, though it was not for lack of trying. "You went into the Mountains?"

"Not underground, father," said Elrohir, and visibly shuddered. "I have no desire to see their feet. But we traced their ankles, you might say. And there we found many cracks in the rock, and empty hollows, before we at last came upon a band of goblins, hewing down trees and scarring the stone. No longer do their cruel blades sing in that place."

"We will speak more of this," I said. "It seems to me that many strange tales come out of the Misty Mountains these days."

"You have heard of it, then?" said Elladan.

"Of what?"

A line appeared between his dark brows. "Something moves beneath the rock," he said quietly. "I could never name it for we have not seen it. But there are whispers in the cracks and crevices of something new… Something…" He visibly searched for words. "Something… unlooked for."

"I do not like the sound of this," I told him. "And we shall compare stories and trace the rumours. But not now."

I flexed my fingers, felt Vilya like a buzzing band against my skin, and though it was a vision hidden even to me, I could sense the golden haze that lay around my Valley and kept us safe.

"Come," I said. "There are others who will wish to greet you." Then I drew a deep breath. "And there is a matter of a different nature I would like to speak of with you as well."

But ere I had got much further, Elladan's eyes fastened on something behind me and he grinned.

"Glorfindel!" he cried. "I see you are awake."

My Captain's laugh sped down the stairs to fall around us.

"Aye," I heard him say, and then he was by my side, and in the sunlight greeted my sons with firm embraces. "Survived, have you?"

"We have," grinned Elrohir, as brightly as his brother, "and with great valour as well."

"I severely doubt it," said Glorfindel.

"We have plenty of tales to tell," said Elladan, and his grey eyes glimmered. "And you may tell yours in turn: of how you have perfected the buttering of bread or the sorting of my father's scrolls in the library. Or any such deeds of valour as you have accomplished of late."

"Go!" cried Glorfindel, but he was laughing. "Now that I have looked upon your faces I am ready to see your backs again."

"Nay," said I, with a firm shake of my head, "you shall not chase them away so soon. I forbid it."

"As you command, Elrond," he said, with a bow of his head and a smile. "But I fear I shall suffer for it."

"You have known worse," I smiled at him.

"I was younger then."

"Father…"

Elrohir was looking around the courtyard. Their horses had been led away and those of my household that had come out to see them return were now drifting off.

"Where is our sister?" His eyes fixed on mine. "And Legolas? Do not tell us he has left for we looked forward to seeing him again."

"He has not left," I said, and there rose in my breast a sudden nervousness.

"I last saw them in the gardens," said Glorfindel, and half a glance skidded my way. "Great friends Arwen and Legolas have become."

"Have they so?" said Elrohir, and he exchanged a new look with Elladan.

I saw in their faces the first stirring of surprise, and there came into their eyes questions of a kind that had no answers. I would have to speak soon, I knew, else they would spin of this such a tale as had no grain of truth in it whatsoever. But I was given no chance to right this potential wrong for once again their attention was diverted and Elladan raised a hand in greeting.

They left us to speed up the stairs and when I turned I saw that Arwen stood in the archway that opened onto the balcony which led around the house and Legolas was beside her. In that moment, it was as if I saw them with other eyes and they appeared to me like a couple. Like Thingol he stood, though his hair was of gold rather than silver, and Arwen, her hair flowing like midnight and her eyes like the stars, was Melian by his side, and they were a King and his Queen.

Then the vision was gone and they were again my daughter and my lover, and they were greeting Elladan and Elrohir with many smiles.

"Elrond?" Glorfindel's eyes were on me and concern churned in them.

I shook myself, indeed, forced myself to feel again the stone step under my feet and the warm rays of the sun on my back.

"How do I do this?" I asked him. "I fear I come poorly prepared to meet this challenge for it is one I never expected."

But Glorfindel smiled softly. "Yet sweeter than most, I think."

"It is so," I admitted. "Yet frightening."

"Yet worth it?"

That drew a smile from me as well. "Aye."

Then he was serious and his blue eyes sharpened on me. "Tell them, Elrond. Let them know what is in your heart and do it swiftly. Send then word to Thranduil. Or, better yet, go thither with Legolas and speak with him directly. And I will go with you, it you so wish, and stand between you and the Elvenking, and he can take his rage out on me."

"You will not duel Thranduil in his own halls on my behalf," I told him, but the edge in his eye would not be blunted.

"Nor will I see you attempt to hide your love beneath the webs of secrecy. It does you no good," he said sternly. "Nay, I say to you: bring out your horse and face your fears. For you have proven a poor keeper of this particular secret, Elrond, and soon enough rumours will spread, even to the tangled branches and mouldy leaves of Taur-nu-Fuin."

"No doubt you are right," I sighed. "And it is better that he should hear it from me."

"Indeed," he said, "especially if…" He hesitated and some of the sharpness melted from his eyes as he beheld me. His voice, when he continued, had softened considerably. "Especially if you intend to lay a claim on Legolas… And name him unto yourself."

Unbidden, memories of my last conversation with Thranduil resurfaced in my mind. "If he could consent to a life here… though it will be different from that which he has always known in the Forest," I said slowly. "If he will have me."

"Elrond…" He shook his head and finally he smiled. "I am beginning to think that Legolas has been yours since he first laid eyes on you."

I looked to my children and Legolas, still deep in converse under the arch around which a honeysuckle had twined its slender branches.

"Then you read him better than I did, in the beginning," I admitted.

But Glorfindel laughed. "Nay, I did not," he said, "but I will not argue the point for I do not mind being framed as one perceptive. But no, too easy it is to view the past in the light of the present."

"It was ever so," said I.

"And ever shall be. Therefore, you must now cast off the dark shrouds of the past and instead consider the future," he said firmly. "Come, let us go to them and I will watch you pretend for a while longer yet that your heart does not take flight for the heavens before the face of Legolas."

And before I could defend myself, he was ahead of me, climbing the steps with great haste. We joined them in the archway and I knew no mercy for Legolas' eyes immediately fixed on my face and the light in them caused a swirl of longing to rise through my chest. His smile was soft and I wished I could kiss him. But keen were the eyes of my sons and so, with great effort, I turned my face away and looked instead to them.

"Have you now boasted of all your feats?" I asked.

"Not all of them," grinned Elrohir. "For Glorfindel was not here to listen."

"Ah, once upon a time I knew peace and quiet," said Arwen, and there was a wry twist to her lips. "Indeed, as I think back, it was only this morning."

"Legolas, have you not entertained our sister with stories of battle against the wicked creatures in Mirkwood?" said Elladan. "That is disappointing."

"I have not," said he, but there came into his eyes a merry gleam. "But had I known, my lady, that such talk pleases you, I certainly would have."

"You are becoming just as terrible," she informed him. "Father, I beg of you: send my brothers to the bathing chamber for they smell and take Legolas with you to your study and fill his head with other things."

"The study?" Elrohir shook his dark head. "That sounds awful. Is that the fate you would condemn him to, sister? You should know," he then said to Legolas, "that it is said that all who enter father's study come out weary and aged, and they have lost all will to ever set arrow to bowstring again."

"Is that how you see me?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," he said, but his eyes glittered cheerfully. "But you are my father and Lord and so I suppose that is how it should be. But Legolas here I think has not asked for that."

"I have not seen it," said Legolas, and his eyes glittered, too, when they met mine, but it was less of glee and more of something which ran much deeper and which burst my heart fully open. "Truly, my lord, I have not seen it in you."

My hands burned, I was sure, for to reach for him and pull him close.

"Then I am glad," I told him. "And _you_," I said to Elrohir, "shall indeed take your brother with you to the bathing chambers. You may clean your mouth as well as your hair."

But while Glorfindel laughed, Elladan looked first to me and then to Arwen and lastly to Legolas.

"Many riddles I perceive here," he said slowly. "But we shall solve them ere long. Come, brother, let us find water."

And as I watched them go, I knew he had spoken truthfully.

**TBC**


	29. Chapter 28

Best wishes for 2020!

**Chapter 28**

Since it had been Arwen who had suggested it, I found no fault in proposing to Legolas that he could join me in my study if he so wished it. He accepted the offer with a smile and my heart expanded at the sight of it. Then I conducted him there. As I closed the door behind us he turned to face me and his head was cocked to one side.

"Have you no pressing business, my lord?"

"No," I told him flatly and watched, transfixed, as humour glinted in his eye. I leaned against the door. "Are you happy to see my sons returned?"

"Aye," he said, wandering a little further into the room.

Distantly I wondered if there was to be a change in the weather for the afternoon light as it fell in through my window appeared to have dulled somewhat. But it mattered not for Legolas shone like gold.

"I am," he continued. "I enjoy their company. And I shall like to hear their latest tales."

I nodded but was given no chance to reply for suddenly he was coming closer again and there had come a thoughtful look into his face.

"Though I confess," he went on, quietly now, "that it would please me even more to spend that time with you, my lord."

My breath, at this admission, became a flimsy whisper of air. "I am sorry," I said, "for not giving you that time."

But he shook his head and flashed a small smile. "I understand. You are Lord and your time is precious."

Frowning, I reached for him and he did not flee as I stroked his cheek.

"You are precious," I said, and upon his skin blossomed a pale rosy fire.

It was indeed becoming real, I knew. Time, it seemed, was the issue – in so many ways. And courage, perhaps. And Glorfindel's words had stirred memory in me and now vague worries woke to writhe in my heart. There were matters I had not yet discussed with Legolas and it may well be that I was unconsciously avoiding them for fear of his response. Slowly, I lowered my hand and I drew a deep breath.

"I know our life here is different from what you are used to," I began. "I know also that I have robbed you of your purpose but Imladris is already protected and I cannot permit you to go hunting orc with my sons. No matter… what is between us, you are a guest here and as such it is my duty to ensure your safety."

He did not object. "I do understand," he said. "You need not explain."

"But I do," I persisted, and now something shifted in my breast and there was a sharp twang near my heart. "I have no great forest to offer. My home I made among the falling and flowing waters, not by root and stem. You are a wood-elf, Legolas."

He did not reply at once but only stood regarding me. A line appeared between his brows as he worked out the meaning of my words for himself. I who had throughout the years only felt an ever deepening love for my Valley – the stronghold-turned-haven – was suddenly less sure about its allure now.

"You have trees, my lord," he said slowly.

"Aye, but no woods. Not as you know them."

Then Legolas nodded and for many cruel heartbeats I thought that he was seeing what I saw and that he would agree with me and subsequently leave.

"A dark wound festers in Mirkwood," he began, "and it is true that parts of the Forest have become corrupted and are rotting into misery. Enchantment, too, lies upon it, as devised by my father, for as you know he is protective of his realm."

He glanced down briefly and I wished only to take him in my arms but I stayed the impulse.

"I suppose you took some notice of it, my lord, on your journeys thither, though it is not primarily set to unsettle elves. We do not see it as travellers do," he went on, after a pause. "To my people, the beauty of the Forest remains largely unmarred. I have lived among those trees in much joy."

At his words, a burst of trepidation twisted my breath into a tight knot. Was it not the love of the different faces of nature that had once upon a time led to the first sundering of the Eldar? And Thranduil was a Sinda, come to rule the Silvan Elves with the explicit desire to distance himself from the Noldor; what was to say that his son was not similarly inclined?

But Legolas, standing before me in the fading daylight, took another step closer and sought my eyes with his.

"You doubt yourself, my lord. And what you have to offer," he said, and his eyes briefly narrowed.

"I do," I admitted, above my breath. "As I never have before."

"Why?"

"I could not say."

If I looked into my heart perhaps I would find guilt there. Guilt for feeling such a love for Legolas as I had never felt for Celebrían. I would find true fear, I thought. Fear that he might leave me. His departure would darken my soul – my world – and my _hröa_ would crumble and I would be lost. Fear of all this; of being so dependent on another's presence in my life. And I could not speak of this, for even as the words came into my mind my lips refused to move.

Long we stood and he watched me closely. Then, finally, and ever so cautiously, did he take my hand in his.

"Tell me more of your life here."

So it was that we settled in my cushioned chairs and, with a deep breath, I willed my fears away. I pulled out the map I had last been studying. I spread it out on the reading table and pointed to a marking, and a name.

"Here," I said, "are the Grey Havens, where Círdan the Shipwright dwells with his people. If you think I am old, I will tell you that Círdan was born under the stars, in ages long past, while the Valar still walked in the woods of Arda."

Slipping into the familiar role of the teacher, I found I still had some strength left.

"I do not think you old, my lord," said he. "Your son spoke in jest before."

"I doubt it," I said dryly, but Legolas only smiled. "In any case, the Valley provides the Havens which such provisions as they need, at times. Our friendship with Círdan's people runs deep."

"Following the Road," I went on, indicating the Great East Road with a forefinger. "Here is Bree. It is a settlement of Men, primarily, but Bree-folk see many travellers, and Halflings dwell there also. They are of the race of Men, yet different."

"They dwell together? Side by side?" He looked up questioningly.

"Yes," I said. "Though these lands," I circled a larger green patch west of Bree, "are truly the lands of the Periannath."

"'The Shire'," he read. "'South Farthing'… and 'Buckland'… I have never heard of these places."

"East of the Mountains, few have," I said. "It is a fair land, by all accounts. The Halflings are a trouble to no one and live yet untroubled by the Shadow."

"Then they are lucky."

"So they are," I said.

As I held his gaze I saw how a deeper shade of grey, cooler and harder, slipped into his eyes, but he shook it off and his eyes cleared.

"Will you not go on, my lord?"

I nodded and turned my attention back to the map. "Bree was once part of the kingdoms of Arnor ere its fall," I said. "Its economy was always based on trade and remains so to this day, though in these days, of course, trade has somewhat dwindled."

"And who is Lord of that place?"

I smiled. "No one. Bree-folk have taken neither King, nor Lord nor Steward."

He pondered this. "It seems to me a strange order," he said finally.

"But natural to them. Yet, they are not left entirely unwatched," I said, careful now to not reveal too much, but the curious light in his eyes spurred me on. "They do not know it themselves but there are those who would come forth and fight for them if need be."

He regarded me long. "Is this your work, my lord?" he asked at last.

"No." I shook my head. "For this task falls to others."

"Your sons spoke little of the Men of the North ere they rode out, but I think I gleaned as much: theirs is a task similar to the one of which you speak, is it not?"

"It is so," I allowed.

"Much have I learned of late," he said softly. "Men and Halflings may dwell in peace together, Men and Elves draw blades under the same trees… And the Naugrim, I have discovered, walk on two legs as the rest of us."

"Come here," said I, and I sat back in my chair and spread my own legs to give him room.

There was not much space but he managed what I hoped was a fairly comfortable position. He came to sit almost in my lap, but not quite, and I wound my arms around his waist and drew him close to me. He secured my hands around him and rested his head against my shoulder. Like this, we were more lying back than sitting, but I was content.

When I closed my eyes I saw sunlight dancing among oaks and alders, and birch leaves, fluttering like butterflies in a warm wind. He lay against me like a blanket of summer and I pressed a kiss to his golden hair and his contented sigh wrapped around us both.

With his fingertips, he drew circles on the back of my hand and my skin tingled where he touched me, as if he made light dance just underneath it. Long we sat like this, until his breathing matched mine and the air in my study grew warm and sweet.

When the sudden knock at my door came, it made us both start and the golden haze that lay wrapped around us cracked and fell to my feet in shards.

"Elrond!" came Glorfindel's voice from the hallway yonder. "It is only I."

Legolas twisted in my arms and I caught his eye. "No, I said. "Stay where you are."

Nonetheless, we straightened as best we could and there was a moment when Legolas could have slipped away from me, but I held on to him firmly.

"Come in," I called, and immediately the door slid open.

It was indeed Glorfindel on the threshold but where I normally would have expected humour in his face at the sight of us, there was now a sense of urgency. His gaze raked over us but then met mine over Legolas' shoulder.

"Forgive me, Elrond, for my intrusion, but you will thank me ere long. For word has come to us that riders have crossed the border."

He licked his lips and briefly his eyes settled on Legolas who had tensed but otherwise sat still. And then he spoke again:

"It is Thranduil riding hither and at great speed."

"My father?" This spurred Legolas into action and my hands fell away from him as he struggled to rise. The usual rich melody in his voice had given way to a metallic, thin note. "My father is coming here?"

"Aye," said Glorfindel, and his smile was grim, "and somehow I think he does not expect this."

"Legolas…" I stood, too, my thoughts coming far too fast for my liking. I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not flee," I added in an undertone.

His eyes were clear once more, and oddly bright, when they fastened on me. The light in them was skittish and revealed the edge of fear that had woken in him.

"He never leaves Mirkwood if he can avoid it."

"Then we shall divine the purpose of his visit when he arrives." I lifted my eyes to Glorfindel who was regarding us with a furrowed brow. "Thank you," I told him. "We shall greet him in the courtyard."

**TBC**


	30. Chapter 29

Apologies for the slight delay – holidays confuse me.

**Chapter 29**

The thunder of hoofbeats came accompanied by a thickening mass of grey clouds above the pine trees. The wind was quickly picking up and it blew my hair into my face. I brushed it away, grateful for to have something to do for anxiety had begun to twist deep in my stomach and I was tense. To my right stood Glorfindel, silent and grave, and his profile was sharp against the cooling light of the sun.

I should have sensed it, I knew. There had been a time when I had known before anyone else that riders, wanderers, travellers were crossing the border. It was not so long ago that I was aware of every attempt made to cross into Imladris. But as grief descended upon me my sight was dimmed and I had instructed Glorfindel to secure our borders and place our faith in the keenness of my guards instead as I dared not trust in my own skill any longer. I should have recovered that skill as I came out of the darkness, but perhaps I had been too preoccupied – too overwhelmed by my love for Legolas to give this proper consideration. Perhaps the threat of darkness lay still too near to my heart. In this moment, as the wind hurled down from the mountain sides, I knew Mithrandir had spoken truthfully when he said that I was not yet quite in tune with the world. And I knew I should be, and deep unease moved though me.

Somewhere behind me stood Legolas, but he had slipped from my grasp once Glorfindel had left us alone. I had not endeavoured to persuade him to wait for his father by my side (though I wanted it) for I could never force him into anything. Besides, we did not yet know the reason for Thranduil's visit and it might be that later we would find the perfect time to peacefully let him know of what had happened. Or so, at least, I told myself as the wind tugged at my hair and clawed at my robe. Yet in my heart, I think I knew the truth, but I feared it.

News of the Elvenking's impending arrival on my doorstep had spread through the house like a grass fire on a dry spring day. Several members of my household had appeared at the top of the stairs and many more were coming to linger in the doorway, apparently not keen to have their kirtles and dresses lifted in the eager winds that sped before the host of riders. Ere I turned back to stare at the tiled path that melted into my courtyard, I saw Elladan and Elrohir coming around a corner of the house, and Arwen was with them.

She hastened up to me while her brothers stayed behind. Her raiment was the rich blue of a summer sky and she shone like sapphire and was strong as diamond. But there was an uncertain light in her eyes now.

"Father," she asked, "what is going on?"

But I was not given opportunity to relay to her neither my suspicions nor my fears for now the first riders appeared on the path before us and they rode in single file for the stone bridge yonder was narrow. They were garbed in sombre greens and browns. In the back of my mind, the memory of the suffocating silence of Mirkwood stirred and, no matter how earnestly I tried to sense it, the power of Vilya on my finger seemed to me spent; and my throat tightened as if the wind was trying to strangle me.

Dust was kicked up and blown into our faces and I backed a few steps up the stairs, blinking in the waning light. I could smell the rain. There were more riders, dark of hair and grim-faced, and they filled my courtyard as the song of hooves upon stone rang out: urgent and harsh. Then he appeared.

While his guard was clad to resemble the shifting shades of his Forest, Thranduil had dressed to impress. Like a waterfall at midnight he gleamed and he rode a white stallion. His eyes found me even before he had fully reined in his horse. Grey they were, like ice, and just as clear, but in that hour there was in them a full storm.

"Elrond!" he called, and his voice was the crack of a whip.

The wind snapped in his fair hair as he swung down. It picked up his long robe and it floated out around him like a great dark silver wing. I swallowed as the anxiety within me rose to blister my chest from within. I feared him, I realised. Or I feared his judgement. For I knew then that he knew, however he had come by the knowledge, and I saw that he was furious.

"Thranduil," I began, and my voice came tight.

But he stayed my words with a look only. His horse restlessly tossed his head but Thranduil paid him no heed. As he strode towards me he was like the gathering clouds above.

"Nay!" he cried. Then his voice rose above the courtyard and all those who had assembled to watch: "You will not speak! For you would speak only lies and deny what has been told to me."

Dust crept down my throat. Beside me, Glorfindel shifted.

"_Elrond_…" Glorfindel's voice was low and spiteful. "He is fey. One more word from him and I end this."

"You shall not," I managed, though an iron grip was around my chest. Cautiously, I went down a couple of steps. "Thranduil," I began again, "come now, what is this folly? Had you but sent word in advance–"

"Oh, aye," he sneered, cutting me off, "would that not have suited your purpose?"

Behind him, the last riders were dismounting in a flurry of brown and grey and green but I had no attention to spare them. More distressing was that it looked to me as though what might be Thranduil's personal guard had formed up, and bows were in his archers' hands and full quivers were slung across their backs. But they made no move. The bite of the wind stung my cheeks as I made another attempt. I had come now to the bottom of the stair and he was close enough that I could see the tempestuous light in his eyes.

"Listen," I said, forcing calmness into my voice. "Will you not come inside so that we may speak in private?"

"_Private_?" He spat the words at my feet. _His_ voice still stubbornly loud and clear: "These will not be words shed in private. For all shall know how you have seduced my son and forged with him such a relationship as was ever unheard of between an elven Lord and a Prince!"

The ground shook under my feet as his accusation rang between my walls and trees. And I felt this too: how it plunged deep into my pools and crashed into my rivers and leapt down the waterfalls. The truth as he would have it filled the Valley and I could not breathe.

"Do you deny it, Elrond?" he said, and the words rolled like thunder towards me. "That you have opened your heart to Legolas?"

Murmurs were all around us. They twined with the wind and the thickening clouds and it was then that the first raindrops began to fall. There was suddenly so much movement that my vision briefly failed, or perhaps it was the truth that finally shone forth in all its terrible glory that blinded me. I no longer felt the reassuring presence of Glorfindel at my back, nor the blessed glimmer of starlight that was my daughter. And the light of Legolas I felt not at all for dread filled my mind and it left no space for him.

"I do not deny it," I said at last, and my voice came from far away.

He was even closer now and his eyes had narrowed. I saw in them a mixture of emotions, too many to name.

I willed dusty, rain-filled air into my lungs and met his gaze, as firmly as I could. "I never could. I have taken him into my heart."

Thranduil stared at me and I could not read him. Then he lifted his eyes from my face. "Where is he?"

And so I turned and saw him immediately. His face was white. He had come about halfway down the stair but stood now as if frozen. Clad he was in a pale yellow that was the hue of the flowers that grew not far away, nestled as they were among the roots of the trees. But the rain was falling heavier now and was swiftly washing away any traces of sunshine that were still left in him. At the sight of him, even as water weighed me down, my heart twisted and in that moment I wanted only to go to him. And in that desire I found the strength that I needed. So it was that I drew myself up and turned to the Elf-King, and in my voice was echoed the sharp threat of Glorfindel:

"_Thranduil_," I said, "you will not curse him for this."

But Thranduil's face looked to me as if cut from marble. "You do not know me, Elrond," he said, low and hard. "You never did."

Then he gave me no choice but to follow him for he marched past me, unhindered by the rain and the wind. Indeed, he seemed a part of them as he swept up the stair, striding towards his son. In the courtyard, the other Mirkwood elves drew closer.

Legolas' eyes were the grey of the sky above and rain fell now into his face and hair. His lips were pale and parted and there radiated off him such fear that I made ready to step in front of him for in that moment I honestly thought that Thranduil intended to strike him. But the Elvenking stopped ere he was close enough, though he still seemed to tower over Legolas, and he raised no hand. Thrice, my heart beat wildly before Thranduil spoke again and his voice was loud enough for all to hear:

"Is this true? Have you bonded with him?"

At once, Legolas nodded.

The wind whistled past me and more rain blew into my face and yet I knew some shade of relief for I did not think I could have borne it had Legolas denied our love. Once again, a great urgency to go to him and embrace him came over me, but less now because I thought I needed to protect him and more because I wanted to somehow express my gratitude. And so the edges of my world softened just the slightest and it was that shift that made me start and recognise the fear that swam through me as not entirely my own. And I found him then within me: Legolas' thoughts had tangled with mine and the dread that roiled in my heart was our shared burden.

As soon as I had realised as much, realised how deeply we had truly connected, I desired even more strongly to take him in my arms, but before I had summoned enough determination and courage to openly display my affection for Legolas, Thranduil turned back to me. And it was then that I saw, through the wild dance of the weather, that something had crept into his eye, and they were gleaming. On his lips was the palest hint of a smirk.

"Now we shall speak in private," he said.

**TBC**


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

The rain beat down upon the roofs of the house as I led Thranduil to my study. The map on the table lay as we had left it and the chair in which I had held Legolas so close appeared to me suddenly achingly empty. I drew the curtain against the rain and possibly also against any curious eyes. I had evaded the looks of my family and my household on my way here but I felt it: the weight of my sons' shock as I passed by them, and the flood of questions that lay just beyond reach.

Right now, however, I would rather have been subjected to them than to Thranduil's wrath as he came to stand in the centre of the room. The rain seemed to have had little effect on him, whereas I, where I remained by the window, felt deeply uncomfortable and exposed.

"Tell me," he said, and his voice was low and flat, "of your intentions."

I fingered the curtain. Arwen had woven it during last winter and I drew strength from that: from the suggestion of her presence there with me. It was a haven of greens and blues, shot with gold, like an early dawn over the mighty forests of old.

"Truly I had none," I said finally, and somehow my voice held. "Never had I imagined anything like this for myself."

He was eyeing me closely and it seemed to me then that some of his rage was leaving him. With a curt nod he motioned at me to go on.

"I had well-nigh lost myself to grief," I said, dragging the threadbare memories forth. "Celebrían had sailed and asked of me to sever our connection. It almost broke me. And so it was like this that I came to your halls: wondering how I was going to endure another spring, let alone another year. The world, as it turned around me, seemed utterly dark and dense… unreachable in a way..."

The rain splashed upon the windowsill. I wished I could be out there with it and lose myself in it, and in the softness of the grass under my feet, but Thranduil was before me and I owed him this tale. I drew another breath.

"When I laid eyes upon your son I was changed," I said simply. "He… shone. It was as if I could see clearly again and I tasted all that which had before turned to dust in my mouth. I barely spoke to him that first time, for he came upon us as we were leaving, but it was in that moment that light again filled my world."

Thranduil did not move but his stony silence forced forth more words from me.

"When I met him again on my second visit, I think I knew." Unbidden, the memory of Legolas' laughter and long looks rose in my mind and, despite everything, it drew a smile from me where I stood now. "But I was ready to dismiss it for such love was unknown to me and I had no intention of binding again with anyone. Also," I gave a small nod, "he was your son."

"You are bonded then?"

I could not decipher the way he looked at me and nor did I understand the tone of his voice.

"I have opened my heart to him," I said cautiously. "Binding among the Elves is a complicated matter…"

"Not the way I see it," he said, and now finally he moved. He half turned away from me and he shook his head. "If you have, as you say, opened your heart to him and he has done the same in turn, and has taken you into his, then he is yours."

I stared at him while the floor shifted under my feet. "You would willingly give him away?"

He slid me a hard glance. "It appears Legolas is not mine to give away any longer."

I needed a moment to accept this. The singing of the rain came on strong winds and the curtain would have lifted from the window had I still not been holding its edge. Far off in the distance, as if belonging to another world entirely, came the first rolls of thunder.

"I was planning on riding to the Forest," I said at last, choosing for the moment to address what I thought was a more manageable aspect of this debate. "I was going to ride to Mirkwood with Legolas and there let you know."

But at this he laughed a peculiar laugh and when he spoke, a chill ran down my spine:

"Do you think me a fool, Elrond? Long have I watched my youngest for fear that he should break his heart in pursuit of such love that the world would withhold from him. Do you think I did not see the light that was kindled in him when he spoke with you in my own halls?"

His eyes fixed on mine and they were ice once more, brilliantly sharp and clear.

"And you seemed uplifted in his company," he said, "delighted even, it seemed to me. And it appeared you accepted his ways. Therefore, I sent him with you, to see if more could ever come of it."

I gaped at him now. "You devised such a plan?"

"Of course," said he, and there crept across his face a smile, not free from a shade of satisfaction. "And it is my impression that I was successful in my endeavour. Tell me, Elrond… Have you bedded him?"

That was when I finally sat down. I could not feel my own legs as I made for the chair I had only a short while ago shared with Legolas, but I knew I sank down into it. I could not speak of this to Thranduil. I could not allow the memories of Legolas – his son – bathed in moonlight and high-strung with lust invade my mind now. I pushed at them, willed them away into the rain and the grass where I might one day find them and treat them better.

But Thranduil's spoke again and he said:

"No matter. You need not answer for the truth is written on your face."

He moved, paced a semi-circle before me and then came to a stop. His voice was cool. "Since you are bonded and you have bedded him, this demand I lay now at your feet: you shall wed him, Elrond."

I looked up at him at last. "Wed him?"

"Naturally," he said. "It is my condition. If you do not agree to it, I shall leave Imladris and take Legolas with me, and you shall never see him again."

A chill had seeped into the room. It rushed against my skin and sifted through my hair. It was long since I had been truly cold at all, but now I felt icy fingers slide over my neck and down my throat.

"This was your plan?" I whispered.

"It has now become it," said he. "For these are now the circumstances."

"Legolas fears your ire," I said slowly. "As did I."

He dismissed this. "A small price to pay for a short time. And shorter indeed than I had intended. For ere I knew it, word reached me of the connection you had formed with him, and those tidings pleased me greatly. It was Mithrandir, of course, who sent the message."

"Mithrandir?" I felt the floor give way entirely and it was a good thing I was seated.

"Oh, aye," he said loftily.

"He knew your schemes?"

"No," said Thranduil. "But he served me well nonetheless. Did you not see him among my guard? By chance, we met him on the road." And now his smile blossomed fully, and he lifted his chin at me. "My blessing you shall have, Elrond, when you agree to marry Legolas."

o.O.o

I sat long in silence after he had left me. I had trouble untangling my thoughts but they were in any case fleeting and half-shaped, like threads torn from a weave in a wind. The rain stopped at some point and the light failed and an uneasy dusk settled. It was around that time that there came a knock at my door and Mithrandir appeared among the building shadows.

He beheld me and his eyes glimmered in an oddly haunting way that immediately sat ill with me. He seemed somewhat stooped where he stood in the doorway.

"Forgive an old man, Elrond?" he asked softly.

I shook my head but he entered nonetheless and, with a rustle of his long travel-stained robe, claimed the chair opposite mine. It was a while before he spoke again but when he did, he did so gently:

"I meant to cause you no pain," he said, "and none to young Legolas. But I saw the way you looked at him and how there had come again a light in your eyes. And when I heard you speak of it," he smiled, "I knew this was not a chance that could be squandered."

"So you sent word to Thranduil?" My voice, in contrast, was sharp.

"I did. But only after I had made sure, as you might recall, that you had great love for Legolas. And he for you."

"And it did not once strike you that I should have been the one to inform his father?"

"Certainly it did," he said, as if there could be no doubt about it. "But tell me, when were you going to set out for Mirkwood? Tomorrow, hm? This autumn? Next spring perhaps?" He shook his head and his long grey beard rippled. "Can you honestly tell me, Elrond, that you had set a date?"

I looked away from him, into the shadows. "No," I admitted. "You are right."

"So your love would have been kept secret," he said, "and never allowed to fully bloom. And it was imperative that it did. It still is, I think. For your sorrow lies still too near to the surface."

There was silence for a while after that but finally I turned back to him. "Thranduil requires now that I wed Legolas. Would that not be the strangest thing?"

His bright eyes narrowed. "Many strange things have there been. And many are yet to come."

"Even so."

"Ah," he said, "Well… You are male, as is Legolas, and that is what it is. And it may not have been what Thranduil desired in_ essence, _but in _reality…_" He thrummed his fingers on the armrest. "Allow me to speak candidly, Elrond."

I did not smile. Indeed, I felt as if fashioned out of stone. "You never do anything but."

For a brief moment Mithrandir looked quite pleased, but he was serious when he continued:

"As I know it, Legolas is the youngest of several brothers. He can never hope to inherit his father's realm should his brothers – Goodness forbid – not somehow perish. But a match such as this: a marriage between himself and the Lord of Imladris. Surely it is more than Thranduil could ever have hoped for concerning his youngest."

"So it is politics, then."

"Oh, it was always politics with Thranduil."

"Aye… You are right, perhaps."

Mithrandir chuckled. "Of course I am right. But let that not deter you, Elrond, and do not deny the love between yourself and Legolas."

I eyed him intently. A most unwelcome suspicion was beginning to crawl through my heart.

"But if that is his father's aim," I began slowly, "what is there to say that his son does not also aspire to it? What is to say that Legolas does not seek the same?"

Mithrandir frowned. "You doubt him?"

"I did not, until you spoke your mind just now." For, in truth, a cold hand had wrapped around my heart and its beating was weakened.

"Then I must ask your forgiveness," he said, and over his face drew a sorrowful shadow. "I do not perceive such scheming in him. He loves you, Elrond. Of that I am quite certain."

"Could he not do both: love me _and_ seek to secure his future?"

Mithrandir regarded me long, his blue eyes heavy on my form. "Turn him away, then, Elrond," he said quietly, at last. "And see if he succumbs to sorrow of the heart or realisation of having lost any claim he might have held to the Valley."

"He holds no claim to Imladris."

"Well, then. In that case you have naught to fear. Nay, I say you shall wed if that seems appropriate to you, and if he is willing. And for no other reason than the love you bear for one another."

But the shadows were creeping forth.

**TBC**


	32. Chapter 31

**A/N: **So I was not going to add this note initially but in the end I could not _not_ comment on the deeply saddening news of the passing of Christopher Tolkien. His dedication to his father's work and his immeasurable contribution to the legendarium are the reasons for why so many of us are here in the first place – and why we keep falling in love with Middle-earth over and over again. I know he would have greatly disapproved of (understatement!) this story (of every story I have ever written) but… thank you sir. Thank you for everything.

**Chapter 31**

No one came for me. Thranduil came not to my door again and nor did Mithrandir. My family also stayed away as the shadows lengthened and deepened, and night fell. Most of all I wanted Legolas, but also I feared him for now I knew no longer where his will ended and his father's began. I did not so much question his love as his motifs. For love I was sure he felt for me, but if it was rooted in subtle designs or desires less fair, I wanted not to be made aware.

I would have cursed Mithrandir for his suggestion which had now set root among my thoughts, had I not learnt to never curse a thing. Curses and oaths had long been the bane of the Noldor and though that doom had been lifted by the Valar after the War of Wrath, I never took any upon myself. And so therefore I sat in silence, staring into a void and perceiving how it engulfed me and emptied me in turn, and left a black chasm where my heart had once been.

This was different than the immense grief that had assailed me at the torment and subsequent departure of Celebrían. What I had felt then had been acute sorrow – an immediate distress which had been dealt me like a blow. This was a building despair that wove its thick, unyielding cords around me until I sat immobile and barely breathing. I was colder than I had ever been and yet I had no impulse to seek warmth. Not even starlight came to me in that black hour for the clouds lay thick over the Valley and drank all their light.

I could never say for how long I sat thus. But finally I rose and by then my house was silent. I found my rooms empty and my bedchamber shrouded in darkness. And there, unseeing and alone, I lay upon my bed, until the night withered away into a washed-out dreary dawn of impenetrable grey.

But I was still Lord and bound to duty, and so when I could delay no longer I washed and dressed and left my rooms. Elves need little sustenance by way of food or drink but may rather eat or drink as it pleases them, and so I forewent breakfast and returned instead to my study. There I firmly closed the door behind me and sank down behind my desk.

There I considered my once-wife but wife no longer. Marriage was generally regarded as an absolute and unbreakable bond among the Elves and though it happened on occasion that two spouses grew estranged they usually stayed together though they might live apart. The act of wilfully closing the heart to another was a rare, and remarkable, occurrence and I knew of few cases save my own. And for good reason, I had swiftly learnt.

Thoughtfully, I traced a darker vein in the wood as it disappeared under the parchments and maps that were piled atop my desk. I wondered then, for the very first time, what Celebrían's life was like in the West. If, perchance, she had found a new love, or if she longed for me as I had done for her not so long ago. If she was happy or sad. Healed or still hurting.

I felt her no longer. Where once the sound of her laughter had stirred my heart only a memory dwelt now and it held no such power over me. Sometimes, during our brightest years together, I thought I could feel her thought brush mine but whenever I reached for her she drifted away.

Ever had she done so, I thought now bitterly. Ever had she drifted away.

But that was unfair. For I had loved her deeply and I had not known the kind of love that Legolas would one day come to kindle in me. There could never be a comparison of them, for theirs were songs entirely different and none could ever drown out the other. Yet even as I scolded myself for belittling the love I had once felt for Celebrían, it seemed to me that the love I bore for Legolas was the greater, and I was ashamed.

Dark were my thoughts in that hour and as the day faltered and a thick dusk swallowed up what light there had been, I finally rose and sought him out.

I needed not search long. He sat among the shadows on the patio where once starlight had danced in his eyes. Before the sight of me he shrank back but I could not deliberately soften the lines of my face for as I beheld him, and remembered his kisses, fear twisted inside me and hardened my heart.

"My lord…" he said, and his voice blended with the deepening darkness around us.

I came to stand only a few feet from him. He was not wearing yellow today and his hair had been hastily braided. The air here was dry and heavy, not like yesterday's which had been wet and wild. Now it crowded in my throat and hindered my breathing, and the tiles under my feet were cold and unfeeling.

"Tell me," I heard myself saying, "the truth." And it was not what I wished to say but I could not stop myself.

"What truth?" He got up, slender and breakable in the night where no stars shone. He sounded confused but perhaps I misread him. "You know the truth."

"I do now," I said. "For your father has spoken of the scheme he devised."

His eyes were wide but not in the way I liked to see them, and he was pale.

"I swear to you, my lord, that I know naught of my father's schemes," he said, and there crept now into his voice a pleading note.

"Is that so?"

"Aye. Please, my lord…"

"You did not seek this?" I gestured at my house.

His gaze fled between the wall to his left and me, and back again. "Seek what?"

My throat was tight, knotting the words together but I got them out. "Whatever I would be able to give you. Whatever an… alliance with Imladris would bring your father."

"An alliance…?" But then understanding flashed in his eyes and he took a step forward. "No!" he cried. "My lord, _please_, I could never–"

And even as the first tear spilled down his cheek I felt how it tore a wound in my own heart; his pain was now mine to bear also, and yet I had surely been cursed for I only shook my head; and I stood like stone unyielding before him.

"Did you single me out for this?"

"No!" And he dropped to his knees before me on the tiles and the air did not stir.

I was not breathing. The black cords wound like iron bands around my chest and drowned out my vision. I had no heartbeat. I felt my body, my _hröa_, weak and wilting, finally withering. I remembered the blackness of the early days, when my own father had gone beyond reach and my mother had followed. And though he would later shine brightly, and her wings were like a white fire as she flew to greet him, it was with a light that was never meant for me and which I could never touch.

Into the care of Maglor and Maedhros we had come. They, who had pursued and slain many, found us, and though they could have killed both Elros and myself, they let us live. But they were cursed, bound to an oath that they should never have taken, and their doom was hard and cruel. And so they, too, went beyond reach: one destroyed in flames and utter anguish and the other broken by grief and despair.

The years had lengthened under the stars but ere I knew it, they were cut brutally short when my brother one day opened his mind to me. My beloved brother whose choice had cut like a spear through my soul and torn me asunder. He was lost now, lost to me outside the Circles of the World, and never would I see him again.

Later, I stood with Cirith Gorgor at my back and with the accursed soil of Mordor beneath my feet. And the dead were all around me. Never had I known such weariness, and Gil-galad had turned his dust-streaked face to me and though there flashed still determination in his eyes, his fingers trembled around the shaft of Aeglos.

The siege that followed extinguished every light. It was in that time that I looked the last upon brave Anárion and upon Elendil, his father. And when Sauron slew Gil-galad, and his head was twisted back, and his dark hair swept around his face as he fell, I swear my cry equalled those of the Nazgûl above. But I fought my way to that bitter end, though our victory tasted like ashes on my tongue.

The last blow came not in battle. Indeed, it was not even dealt me directly. Had I been there, I might have been able to spare her for gladly would I have suffered in her place. But I had _not_ been there and she had well-nigh perished between the high rocky walls of the Pass instead. She had been returned to me too late and soon I bitterly discovered that I had nothing to set against the poison that was seeping into her soul.

All this came to me in that hour as Legolas knelt before me and the skies were black as jet, and no wind reached me. Perhaps I had grown too used to deceit and trickery. Perhaps I saw deception when there was none. Yet, I was powerless before the threat of it and the memories choked the air out of me and the ground fell away under my feet and I saw nothing. I gave up thought, then, and memory at last, and my knees gave way and the unforgiving stone that was the Ered Gorgoroth swallowed me up and chewed me to pieces until I was no longer.

o.O.o

Silence was all around me. It held me down. It had invaded my mind and filled my heart, and I did not know myself. I had no heartbeat and no breath. I lay swathed in shadows, wrapped in darkness, draped in sorrow.

But I was finally calm. I needed no stars and no Moon and no Sun, for here all was silence, and light was a song and here there was no singing. Indeed, why had I ever needed singing? When I could simply lie here, drenched in this stillness that was like a shroud. Here no constellations gleamed from a vaulted sky and no tails of diving stars traced a silvery line from the depths of the heavens to the glowing horizon. Here, nor Arien nor Tilion would pass in their courses, and their splendour would never reach my eyes. If eyes I had.

Long I lay thus until at last I felt movement and the peace was disturbed by an acrid smell. I tried to turn my face away but I found I could not move and then came a sound I could not place. It soon died away but in its wake came another and on the very edge of the darkness a faint light flickered to life.

For a while this was all I understood but then the world as I had now come to know it seemed to be sliding sideways and more light invaded my silence and I closed my eyes to it for it stung. Cruel it was, and yet alluring, and I was powerless to hinder it from overtaking me. Slowly but steadily it burned, and finally it reached me, and I strained before it. There I saw grey, at first, and then a piercing blue, and there was smoke.

**TBC**


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

When at last I opened my eyes, at first I thought I had deceived myself. For no lamps had been lit and there was no fire burning and because of this the room lay in darkness. But when I lifted my pounding head in an attempt to make out any details, or indeed make any sense of what had happened, there was a shift in the air to my right and a familiar rustle of heavy fabric.

"You are a fool, Elrond."

I sank back down. Mithrandir leaned in over me and his face came into view. It was lined and the shadows under his eyes were dark pools. In the absence of light, he looked more wraith than man.

"Fool indeed. Yet this is my fault also," he was saying now, and he shook his head so that his beard brushed my shoulder. "For I see now how I sowed the seeds of doubt in your mind. And for that I beg your forgiveness."

Slowly his words sank into me. Perhaps I could have found a reply for him but he appeared not to be waiting for one. Instead he rose and wandered out of my line of vision and it was not long before a first light sputtered to life as he lit a lamp.

I saw then that I was not in my own chambers. It took me a moment too long to recognise the room but when I did so, there came a stab through my breast and I struggled to sit.

"No, not so!" He was by my side again in an instant and his hand on my shoulder was persuasive. "No, Elrond, you must rest."

"But…" I choked the word out, from a throat and a tongue that felt as though they had been clawed to shreds by a dragon.

"You will rest," he said, and his voice came stern and commanding, and as if from beyond the world. "For you have wandered far and wide in the darkness, I perceive."

My head was spinning but it was now far too heavy to lift and for the first time in my long life I knew an impulse to retch. But he steadied me and muttered words I did not recognise, and ere long, my stomach settled. Yet I knew this bed and its hangings and that door that led out onto a patio. And so I tried again to sit up but, this time also, he stayed me.

"I must…" I managed, but he only snorted.

"Think you truly that he ever left your side? I never took you for a faithless soul, Elrond, and now it might be that I was wrong. Oh, very well…" He turned away from me and spoke more words but these were not for me. "Come here," he said, "if you have not given up yet."

And then he backed away and for a little while I knew only that faint and distant burn of the lamplight, but then, among the shadows, I could suddenly make out another face, and the sight of it caused tears to fill my eyes.

His cheeks were white. Around his face fell his hair that had once been the very rays of the Sun herself but, in this moment, it had lost all colour. In his eyes thundered the same pain that was now wrenching my heart into two and they were ashen in hue. Warily, he drew closer, like a frightened animal, and his gaze skittered from my face to something else that I did not know what it was.

"Go on," came Mithrandir's voice, and it was gentler now. "He is as you know him."

This I barely understood, but then Legolas was by my side and all I could see was the fear in his eyes, and it broke me.

Almost.

For finally I understood that while I had known fear countless times, always had I mastered it, and must do so also this night. And so it was that when he finally stood beside me and could not speak I did so instead; and though my voice sounded rough and unpleasant that was not what mattered.

"I am sorry," I said, through all the pain I had ever known. "I am so sorry I mistrusted you."

"As well you should be," said Mithrandir, as he came to stand behind Legolas and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It was well that I was watching you when you went to him. Such madness, Elrond." He shook his head.

"I did not know what to do," said Legolas, and his voice was but a weak disturbance of the air.

But Mithrandir gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You did well." Then he looked once more at me. "No one knows of this, as I am sure you will appreciate. Dawn is on her merry way and will soon break in the east. If you will consent to stay in bed, Elrond, I will leave you to talk and invent a decent excuse for you both."

Legolas opened his mouth and looked at him, but Mithrandir only gave his shoulder another squeeze. And he winked. "Leave Thranduil to me."

With that he left and there was, once again, silence.

I swallowed hard. "I do not know what came over me," I admitted at last. "Never before have I felt like that. I do not know what power seized me."

Legolas' eyes had fallen from my face. So thin he looked, and so wan. "I did not know you, my lord," he said in a whisper. "I feared you, even as you fell."

And I felt his fear. It worked its way through my breast until it constricted my heart and held it in an unforgiving grip. His worry I felt, too, and his sorrow, and it hurt my very soul to know that I was the cause of such pain.

"I am sorry," I said again, "I never meant to hurt you. It was as if reason itself abandoned me and fear came to govern me."

He stood unmoving. "What did you fear?"

Again, I swallowed to ease my burning throat. Weariness lapped at me from all sides but I could not give in now.

"That your love was not true," I said, and shame welled up within. "That you saw in me a way to further your own ambitions…"

"You thought such of me?" His voice was thin.

"Never before," I said, "but, aye, in that hour I did and it is the worst thing I have ever done."

He was silent for a while and it was long enough for a desire to sleep to come over me and his face blurred in the darkness.

"Mithrandir told me much in the night," he said at last, calling me back. "Of such things I have never known. Of… of your past, my lord. And he, too, begged for my forgiveness. For he said he planted those seeds of doubt in your mind. Without meaning to."

I shook my head against his pillow, barely seeing him now. "Mithrandir spoke only the truth. It was I who interpreted his counsel to your disadvantage. The fault is mine."

When he said nothing to that I drew one of the heaviest breaths I had ever drawn and forced my eyes open. I had to work hard to keep the pain from breaking my voice.

"Listen to me," I said, seeing his face, "I understand if you choose to leave. I could never close my heart to you, Legolas, for I think now that in doing so I would bring about my own ruin, but if you can bear the separation, and the knowledge that I love you, I will let you go to find peace and love elsewhere."

Long he stood in silence at my side while I lay with despair tearing into my heart. Yet I felt detached, as if drifting in a thick fog, and I did not sleep. As Mithrandir had promised, after a time, the shadows of night began receding as the first grey mists of dawn drifted into the room. It was then that Legolas finally spoke:

"I could not," he said quietly. "I could not bear it. I am not that strong."

When he lifted his eyes to mine I saw that they were the colour of the rains of a bleak winter and they were brimming with tears.

"I do not even wish it," he whispered, and in his voice was a note of desperation. "But there is so much pain, my lord. There is so much pain."

Yet even in his agony I knew a spark of hope and I lifted my hand towards his face. I did not reach it but he caught my hand in his and his cold fingers wrapped around my own.

"I know," I said, "but I can heal the wound, if you will let me. For it was my creation."

"I also have known fear and doubt," he said, and he sounded at a loss. "I know you have asked me to stay, my lord, but I think I did not truly believe you. I think… I did not truly think this possible and…"

That was when, with what little strength I had, I drew him down beside me for I could no longer stand not holding him. And while the coming dawn grew as a glowing emerald light in the eastern sky, he finally came to lie against me and buried his face in the crook of my neck. His arm wound around my waist and I secured it there before I closed my eyes.

It took a good long while before his breathing came easier and I dared to lift my heavy head enough to sink a kiss into his hair. Faint were the traces of sunlight that I found in him that morning but his light had not wholly abandoned him or he would have walked in the darkness beside me. I willed even more light into my heart and consciously worked to open it so that he might find it a safe resting place. Only when I felt him relax against me did I speak:

"We have spoken of truths," I said softly, but I will tell you that this is the truth as I know it: _you_ I love, now and always."

He did not stir but lay quite still. I covered his hand with mine and he was warmer now.

"Wherever your path takes you," I said, "remember that. Even if we are parted."

He lifted his head and I saw in the faint dawn the traces of tears on his cheeks.

"I would not wish to be parted from you," he said in a quiet voice. "Even though it were necessary."

Gently, I brushed the memories of tears from his cheek. But even as I looked into his eyes a vision came to me of mountain ranges and endless plains of pale, wiry grass, and a black fire that twisted whip-like in the belly of the earth, and my hand stilled mid-movement. The vision passed just as quickly as it had come upon me but it left a frown on his face.

"What is the matter, my lord?"

I barely managed a smile for him. "Sometimes I have wondered if the world will one day come to claim you."

His eyes were intent on mine. "I would never go."

"Perhaps not," said I.

But he bent his head and placed his lips upon mine and there, somewhere in his shaken depths, I found the sweetness that woke again the song in my soul. As he kissed me it grew in strength and as the first rays of sunlight touched the evergreen crowns of the pines that watched over my Valley, I felt it rise within me and light up my heart.

I brought him down beside me and his fingers laced with mine. It was then that I felt his returning joy, and his mingled relief and gratitude, and his thought brushed mine, and lingered. And I kissed him again and still he did not flee, but instead melted even more fully into me; and his timid light was blended with mine until I was sure that I saw stars glinting in the glow of the rising Sun.

**TBC**


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

I could have stayed with Legolas on that bed forever but as the sun climbed towards her peak, I finally shifted and lifted my head to look down at him. He had curled around me in his sleep and was still lost somewhere in a dreamland, I thought, but the shadows in his face were no longer. Therefore, I bent to kiss his temple and then the pointed peak of his ear, and there also I exhaled over his skin.

He stirred, then, and a smile caught his lips. "What time is it?" he asked, and his voice was deliciously drenched in sleep.

"Nearing noon," I told him, "and I think it is time we rose."

I brushed some of his hair from his cheek and left a kiss there also. But he only burrowed deeper into the pillow and let go of a long sigh.

"Could we not stay?"

"Aye, we could," I smiled, my hand returning to his hair. It had caught the shimmer of the day and flowed in golden rays around him. "Until Glorfindel breaks down the door for fear that I have somehow perished."

He roused himself at that and a shadow fell across his face as he turned it to me. "Do not jest about such things, my lord."

I kissed him again. "It is over," I told him when we parted. "Do not fear."

He did not look entirely convinced but he rose with me and I saw that he was in the same clothes as yesterday.

"Come," I said, and caught him around the waist and pulled him into my arms. When I had him secure in my embrace, I dipped my head and placed a kiss just beneath his earlobe. "We will wash now, and dress in something less creased. And then I shall speak some more with your father for now I know what I wish to tell him."

He pulled back a little. "And what is that, my lord?"

I looked into his eyes and in them glimmered the faintest blue, and I read in them a small gleam of hope.

"What I should have told him upon his arrival," I smiled. "Which is that I agree to his demands."

But Legolas only frowned. "I am not sure I understand?"

I traced the line of his cheekbone with my fingertips and the softness of his skin overwhelmed me.

"You have not spoken with him?"

"No, my lord. For I did not know what to tell him. In truth, I evaded him…"

"Then you shall have to be content with this riddle for the time being," I told him. "Until I have spoken with Thranduil and made my purpose clear to him."

He shook his head but a small smile played on his lips. Yet he said nothing but only yielded as I once again joined my mouth with his and allowed myself to dissolve in the light that lay gently wrapped around us.

o.O.o

To wash and dress again in clean clothes was simply bliss. If anyone of my household found it strange that I sent for warm water in the middle of the day I never heard their questions, but, in any case, I would not have cared. For my heart was light in my breast – lighter than I had ever felt it, I was sure – and in my mind swirled all the possibilities and their half-shaped dream-forms claimed all my concentration. If Legolas was willing, I would espouse him and embrace him before my family and people, and so also in front of all the peoples of Arda if they were in any way interested in seeing it.

All of this was still on my mind as I finally stepped inside my study. It would be untrue to say that I was wholly free of a shade of trepidation as I considered making my union with Legolas official, but I felt more like myself than I had in many long dark hours and that was comforting.

I was standing by my desk, thus deep in thought, when I caught a movement in the corner of my eye.

"Father?"

Elladan had been passing by in the hallway, but at the sight of me at my desk he had paused mid-step. He was in riding gear, with high boots and leather arm guards, and he had meticulously tied his hair back from his face. Now he visibly hesitated and his grey eyes skimmed my form.

"Elladan," I said. "Come in, if you will."

"I will stain your carpet," he warned me, glancing down at his feet.

"I will not scold you," I said, offering him a tentative smile.

But he only nodded and slid over the threshold. He came to stand before me with his eyes still on my face and there were a thousand questions in them. I leaned back against the desk and searched for words I once never would have expected myself to speak.

"I love him," I said at last. "I do not know how it came to be so, but I do. And I have opened my heart to him."

"Well, we learned as much from Thranduil," said Elladan, and there was a twitch in the corner of his lips.

"I did not intend for that to be so," I told him, and I would have gone on but he laughed.

"Indeed, I should hope not! Though I suppose he did your work for you."

I shook my head. "That is not how it should have been. Elladan, I do no–"

"Father," he cut across me gently, and took a step closer. And he took my hands in a gesture I had never known from him before. "Do not fret. For we are happy for you, Elrohir and I. Somewhat confused, aye, and not a little shocked. But, truly, father, we arehappy."

I looked down to where our hands were joined and despite his words there washed through my heart a wave of the deepest sorrow.

"I did not seek this," I said quietly. "After your mother left, I thought I was all but spent…" I raised my eyes to his face and looked into it. "If not for you, and your brother and your sister, I fear I would have been consumed by grief."

His grey eyes, so often full of humour and jest, were softened. "We know," he said, in a voice that was equally low. "And we feared it."

"I am sorry," I said, "for not being stronger then."

But he only shook his dark head and the line of his lips melted into a mild smile. "I could never fathom what it must be like. We hold you blameless."

I found no words to that but my eyes stung with the tears I had always hidden from my children. He released my hands so that I was free to brush them away, and then spoke again:

"But now we see in you a desire for life returned," he said, "and the despair that settled in you upon our mother's departure we perceive is all but gone. If this is because of the love which has grown between yourself and Legolas… Then we are only thankful. And relieved." He smiled again. "And glad."

"You would have brought it back, all of you, eventually," I told him, though I was not so sure.

And he read the truth in my face, but he was merciful. "Perhaps," he said. "But love comes in many shapes and forms and each nourishes us differently."

Through the tears I smiled at him. "When did you learn such wisdom?"

He grinned. "You think we only contend with Glorfindel and that we never dwell on other matters than fighting. No, in truth we have spoken much with him over the years and discussed many things that are not related to warfare." He eyed me. "Have you never heard his tales from his former life?"

"I have," I said, my mind still trying to fit these new pieces of information together, "though it was long ago."

Elladan laughed, though it was a kind sound. "You are indeed very old, father. It is a wonder Legolas sees anything in you at all." But then he was serious and there flashed in his voice a hint of urgency. "Keep him here, if he will be kept. Allow him, father, please, to heal you."

I nodded. "If he is willing."

"Good." He took a step back and surveyed me. "I shall find my brother now and relay all of this to him. If he has not already wheedled it from my mind even as I stand here."

I frowned at him. "You know that skill?"

"Of course," he said, looking quite surprised that I should ask at all. "Always I sense him, as he does me. Is that not so for all elven twins?"

"No," I told him. "It is not so."

"Then we are special," he grinned. "And even more so than we thought. Which pleases me."

"I am sure it does," I told him wryly.

"Indeed." Then his grin faded and he beheld me once again. "I do not know what it is like to have opened the heart to another, let alone being forced to close it thereafter," he said softly. "I can only imagine what pain would lie in waiting for me if I were sundered from Elrohir. For he is my twin and I know him as I know myself, and he is ever present within me. Therefore, I say to you, father: love Legolas as you will and we shall never spite you for it."

I swallowed. "Thank you."

He might have wished to say something more but yet again there was movement over by the door and we turned as one. And there stood Thranduil and his eyes were sharp and his face betrayed not a single one of his thoughts. Elladan it was who found his footing first and he slid me a quick glance.

"Ah, I shall leave you." He gave me just as quick a smile and then he inclined his head to Thranduil. "My father is all yours, my lord."

I watched him go but as he slid out the door to come behind the Elvenking, he turned a grin over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow as if acknowledging my upcoming trial. Then he was gone.

Barely had I seen the last of his dark head before Thranduil lifted his chin. "I have not seen my son since my arrival."

I quenched my sigh. "Will you not come in?" I asked him. "And we will speak in private."

He agreed to this by saying nothing against it, and then he drifted inside my study. He was clad in the dark greens of his Forest but had abstained from donning his crown for which I was absurdly relieved. When the door was firmly closed behind him, I motioned at the chairs and though he claimed one of them, he looked as if he would have preferred standing.

"I could accuse you of many things, Elrond," he told me when I, too, was seated. His eyes on me were searching. "Not least for disrespecting me enough to hide my son in your bedchamber even as I am visiting you."

I held back the remark that would have flown from my lips had I felt inclined to argue. For this visit was of his own making and I had been given no choice in the matter.

"But," he went on ere I had come up with an answer and his eyes narrowed. "I see in your face that this is not so. You are not withholding him."

It had not been shaped in the form of a question but nonetheless I shook my head. "I am not," I told him honestly, and I was relieved. "Legolas' choices are his own."

It was cruel to suggest that it was his own son who shied away from him but Thranduil did not anger. Therefore, I seized my chance and went on rather quickly:

"Nor do I seek to embarrass you," I said. "But many truths needed to be revealed to him and my life has been long. It takes time to unveil the past."

And where perhaps I had expected him to scoff at me, he did not. Instead he sat back and a thoughtful look came into his face, and finally he nodded.

"Then it is of the past that we shall speak," said he.

**TBC**


	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Pale streaks of a hesitating sunlight walked across the floor of my study. I sat unmoving and waiting for Thranduil to speak. His eyes were unfocused as he stared into the distance and for the longest time I wondered if he were waging a battle with himself and what its nature might be. But finally he drew a deep breath and the tension went out of his shoulders, and he sighed. But he did not look at me when he spoke, and he began:

"We had not thought we would be blessed with another child," he said quietly. "Four sons we had already, which is a great number among the elves, as you know, and the years were lengthening. Yet, Legolas was born in the waxing of the year, under sunlight and amidst greening leaves. Our other children were born in autumn, or winter, but his was the song of summer, and the sun."

He turned his face away. "Even as the darkness crept closer it seemed to us as though the light broke through wherever Legolas went, and his mother, long after she had birthed him, was aglow."

There was a space of silence before he went on. "Different he seemed to us already, then. So bright and so shining. I think, now, that perhaps I have always known that one day he would seek to journey beyond our borders, for they are cold and cruel at times and he is not."

"Yet I kept him with me and did not encourage him, for in him…" He paused. "For in him I see _her_ and how she shone, then."

I found no words for him. We sat long in silence as the humble light moved over my walls. At long last, he looked up at me and there was a new light in his eyes: desperate and fearful.

"I would not mind it, Elrond," he said. "For your realm is safe still and Legolas I would keep safe. In the Greenwood we fight. My sons fight, my people fight. Against the Enemy we set our lives in the hopes that such sacrifice will keep the Shadow at bay. But should Legolas fall, I could not bear it. In Imladris he would be safe. Is that not so?"

"Thranduil," I began carefully, "Legolas was raised with bow in hand. My sons say he is skilled indeed, and he is young. If I could, I would keep him at my side always, but I fear reciting poetry under the starlight will not be enough for him. And I do not think that is his fate."

It was as close as I had ever come to reveal what I had seen in Legolas: something that lay beyond the borders of even my imagination. I did not like to dwell on it for that brought a twist to my heart and I feared it. It was true that I wanted him forever secure in my arms and yet, and perhaps it was due to a sudden flash of foresight, I now found myself ready to argue another point of view.

He looked long at me. "What then do you propose?"

I shook my head. "I would let him train with Glorfindel. Indeed, even let him ride out at times with my sons. I shall not like it for it will be perilous but the Dark Lord's webs are incessantly woven and we need to prepare for whatever might come of His toil. However, you are right: Imladris is still safe and will stay so for as long as I remain here."

And because there was no challenge in his face and no calculating gleam in his eye, but only a father's concern, l leaned forward and made my voice low but sharp, and I said:

"Never again shall we speak of what I am about to tell you. And nor may you ever make mention of this to another..." I regarded him sternly. "But for the love you bear for Legolas I reveal to you now that I have in my possession one of the Three. It will not protect him in battle but it will give him a safe home."

On my finger, visible to no one but myself, Vilya shimmered of gold and blue.

At first, Thranduil did not give any reaction but then he nodded softly.

"I admit I have wondered," said he, "how Imladris remained so unspoiled. This comes not as a great surprise yet now I know for certain. I will keep your secret safe, Elrond, if you will do the same with my son."

"He has a will of his own," I warned him, "as you well know."

"Aye," said Thranduil, with a heavy sigh, "it is so. Unfortunately."

I smiled then. Not at his fears but perhaps because I somewhat enjoyed surprising him. "I will wed him," I said, "if he will have me."

Thranduil's narrowed eyes instantly locked with mine. "You consent?"

"I do. But you will not tell him as much, or even imply that such is my – or your own – intention, for that is my task. And I will ask him when the time is right."

He pondered this. "And when is that?"

I leaned back and discovered that I was still smiling. For though I perceived in him suspicion and frustration, stronger than that, his relief came radiating off him.

"When I deem it so," I told him.

His eyes sharpened further but there was no malice in them. In fact, his lips twisted oddly and there might have flashed a smile across them. But it was soon gone.

"Fine," he said. "Though I will warn you, Elrond. Rarely you and I shall see eye to eye, even if Legolas should accept your offer and come to dwell with you."

"I expect nothings else," I said.

"Then I grant you leave to make him an offer."

"Ah, do you so?" I said dryly. "For that was not at all your own purpose for coming here."

It was then that he finally smiled and into that smile went all his power and knowledge, and though I knew he had played me, when I thought of Legolas and the way he lit up my very soul, I found no incentive to argue.

"Yet you must speak with him," I said instead. "For he fears your judgement."

"Oh, I shall," said he.

o.O.o

I saw him no more that day until we were to sit down to supper. It was now long since I had last eaten and I welcomed the hour. I was standing with Glorfindel by the head of the table when Thranduil swept inside and just as Glorfindel's mouth twisted into a wry smile, my gaze fell on Legolas as he appeared on the threshold, on the heels of his father. His eyes were wide and filled with doubt and he hesitated as he looked first to Thranduil and then to me. My heart went out to him, but I would not test his courage so cruelly and so I must be content with only smiling at him. But I ached to hold him and feel the press of his cheek to my shoulder and the way in which his arms would come around my waist; and I hoped he could read as much in my smile.

"Legolas!" came suddenly Elrohir's bright call. "Will you not join us? For my brother has an opinion on shooting that I cannot seem to get out of his head."

Gratitude welled up within me as Legolas, with only a dash of heat to his cheeks, thus was saved from having to make a difficult choice and he sped across the room to where my sons stood. Over his shoulder I caught Elrohir's eye and his wink at me.

"Would you know…" murmured Glorfindel in an undertone. "They have learnt something at last."

I looked to him then and beheld him long. "Indeed, you would know," I said softly.

He caught my eye and understanding came into his face before he shook it off with a grin. "Ever a handful they were. And shall yet be so for many years to come, I foretell."

But I held his gaze and his grin faded into a smile touched by melancholy.

"Thank you," I told him.

Thus we stood for a while longer, each mired in his own thoughts, ere the food was brought out and we arranged ourselves around the table.

I let Legolas choose his seat without pressure and in the end he slid into the chair by his father. But Arwen, with a dazzling smile at Thranduil, chose the one to his right and even the Elvenking could not withstand the light of the Undómiel for long. She blunted his edges, I saw, and conversation gradually picked up and though I was sat between Glorfindel and Erestor, I was pleased.

When the time came to leave the dining hall, the last dazzling glow of scarlet lay low in the western sky and the stars were glinting down to fill the pools and rivers of the Valley with their silver rain. The last calls of the birds trilled through the trees and the sweet night-scent of many flowers came wafting through the house.

That was when I found Legolas, for he had stayed behind as the others slowly exited and there, in that mingling of light, I took his hand in mine and laced our fingers together. His face he turned up to mine and I smiled. I lifted my free hand to his cheek and stroked it and knew that I would never tire of feeling his skin against my fingertips. In his eyes were mirrored the stars and ever so gently I closed the distance between us and brushed his lips with mine.

It was a simple kiss, long and light. I let my mouth linger upon his as the night fell into place around us and the voices of the others drifted off into the distance. My loose grasp on his fingers became what anchored me to the world while my heart swam in the shining seas of the glimmering heavens.

When it was truly over, he rested his head upon my shoulder and I stroked his golden hair. Like this we remained until my breathing had become his and I realised that my eyes were still closed. So I opened them and urged him silently to lift his head so that I could once more look into his face.

"This is all I shall ever want," he said softly.

"It is yours," I smiled, and lifted some of his hair over his shoulder to let it fall behind his back.

"Truly?"

"Truly," I told him.

He regarded me for a moment longer but then he let go of my hand.

"My father," he began, "is pleased enough, I think."

Then he made a face and embarrassment flooded his eyes.

"To be quite frank, he told me that I could have done worse. So it seems your fears were not entirely unfounded, my lord. For that I should have… bonded with someone of your station appeals to him." He licked his lips. "You must know, my lord, that such designs never once crossed my mind."

I let him finish for it was clear to me that his need to lay this truth at my feet was great. And so it was only when he had fallen silent that I nodded.

"It may be that we have given Thranduil more than he ever expected," I said. "But let that be so. For it does not in any way mar my feelings for you. And I believe you."

He held his breath for another heartbeat but then it came rushing out of him and he fell into my arms. I brought him close and kissed his hair and he burrowed his face in my neck and stayed there. My palms stroked up and down his back, mindful of his golden tresses. Against the fine wool of his tunic, Vilya danced and together we wove a web of protection around him. If that was what Thranduil sought in the end, when he gave his youngest to an Elven Lord, then I was more than happy to oblige.

**TB**


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

That night I guided Legolas by the hand into the Hall of Fire and did not surrender my hold on him even as all eyes were turned to us. The orange glow of the flames danced on the walls and blended with the deepening shades of night, and if there was a stumble in the singing at the sight of us, I think I was too nervous to mark it.

As for Legolas, when we had safely made it across the threshold, his eyes sought mine and I strengthened my grasp around his fingers and his smile came weak. But I read in him a timid elation as well and that became what emboldened me to push forward. And across the room, where stood my usual seat, Glorfindel rose and relinquished his own, and I realised as we drew nearer that it was so that Legolas could sit beside me.

Indeed, as we finally reached the other end of the room, Glorfindel's eyes were upon us and though there was humour in them, there was more, too; and even as I held Legolas' hand, my Captain stepped forth and laid his hand on his shoulder.

"Well pleased am I," he said quietly, "to see you thus."

"Thank you, my lord," said Legolas, and his words came in a breathless rush.

Glorfindel chuckled. "You had better inhale now, my prince, or I fear you shall faint."

I gave Legolas' hand a squeeze. "Come," I said, "let us sit."

And so we did, and gradually the tide of curious glances ebbed out and I discovered that I was breathing again. As was Legolas, it seemed.

He turned to me just as I leaned in closer to him and for a first frail moment our intentions collided but then he dipped his head a fraction.

"I admit I am not sure where to look, my lord."

I surveyed the crowd and my eyes fell on Thranduil. His back was turned to us, deliberately or not I did not know, and he appeared to be in conversation with Erestor. They were a good match, I suspected, for little did ever sway my chief advisor and there was a chance that even the capricious moods of the Elf-King could be tempered by him.

With ease, I turned my attention from them and looked again at Legolas.

"Anywhere you like," I told him. "Soon enough the novelty shall wear off and you will be as uninteresting to them as I am now."

To my delight, his lips curved into a smile. "I look forward to it."

Then boldness came upon me and I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you find my company tedious, then?"

His laugh scattered the remaining tension between us.

"Oh, aye," he said. "Devastatingly so. I dared not tell you before, my lord, but now that you yourself willingly raise the subject..." His eyes glittered, blue as the summer night which cradled my house.

I could look nowhere else but into those eyes and the way that happiness flooded them. Yet I did my very best to keep my tone as light – as if we were only playing at a courting-game and my devotion to him was not already laid bare for all to see. But I was inexperienced, I knew, having not ever aimed to tease a lover so and I fear I failed miserably.

"It is now too late," I told him, nonetheless. "Sooner you should have spoken, for now I have led you here by the hand, in front of the eyes of my people and it is me that you are stuck with."

But Legolas took pity on me and his smiled deepened. Then he leaned in even closer and I took his proffered hand in mine and gingerly rubbed my thumb over his knuckles.

"Lead me as you wish," said he, "and I shall follow."

I lifted his hand to my lips, then, and kissed it – like we were alone and this night was only for us. When I looked up, Thranduil's grey eyes locked with mine from across the room and there was a moment of absolute hesitation, but then his nod at me came curt and affirming. And it was only then that I think I finally knew that Legolas' path had truly melted into mine, and with him I would gladly walk forever.

We sat through many songs that night: ballads and lays and even some poetry. I answered the questions Legolas had about them and quietly told him such tales that I thought he might not have heard: of the deeds of the Eldar in Beleriand, of their entanglement with the sons of the House of Hador, and of the Powers that dwell still in the West.

At times he surprised me with his knowledge but it was clear to me that in Thranduil's halls ancient lore was not as well-preserved as it was in Imladris. And yet, as I looked into the eyes of Legolas and saw how they sparkled with youth and the eagerness of learning, I wondered if he one day would come to see me as only a withered lore-master. Especially so if his road would lead him beyond the Mountains and into a future not even I could fathom.

I feared all of that, I knew, as I heard myself speak, and that fear was like a burning trail through my chest. I willed it away, tried to douse the flames of trepidation that licked up my throat with the calming waters of reason. If Legolas' path had indeed blended into mine own, then would not I also be given a say in any matters that were to come? Was it not utterly unlikely that Legolas would simply run off into unknown lands without consulting me?

These thoughts brought me to silence and these questions I pondered as the hymn to Elbereth filled the Hall and the moonlight fell in soft waves over the grass. When the song was over, Legolas shifted in his chair and I roused myself, casting off my worries in a deliberate effort to focus on the joy that I also felt.

"My lord…" Half a blue-grey glance skidded his father's way but Thranduil was making ready to retire and paid no attention to us.

"I would..." he licked his lips, "if it is not altogether unseemly..."

At his words, it was as if my stomach turned over in a wave of slow warmth. If any traces of my previous ponderings had lingered in my mind they were obliterated by the suggestion that I perceived in his words. In that moment I saw only the promise that was being hinted at by him.

"I think," I suggested, slowly, "that what you are saying is that you wish to speak in private?"

"Aye," he said, with a faint smile, "I would, my lord."

Then I rose, and Legolas with me, and I knew the floor came to meet my feet as we left but I felt it not. It is entirely possible that I wished my family a good night but too soft was Legolas' hand as it brushed mine that I could well have said anything but. As soon as we had passed out of sight and were headed for the gardens, I caught that hand in mine and pulled him against me.

We came to a stop under an archway and a honeysuckle overrun by flowers of flaming orange and red. There I kissed him. The sudden silence embraced us and he let go of my hand so that he might twine his arms around my waist instead. I tilted his head back and parted his lips with mine and starlight glimmered at the edge of my vision. He was warm and pliant as his tongue came questing, and it slid against mine somewhere in that sweet-scented night.

For a long time we lingered, with the kiss on the edge of ending, ere I finally slipped my fingers under his chin to catch his eye. He was his own light, steeped in silver, and I traced his cheekbone.

"I am not your lord, Legolas," I whispered, for a new type of longing had woken in me and I sought now to break down any remaining barriers between us.

His gaze flickered down to my breast. "I know."

So I bowed my head and placed another kiss on his lips. Still almost touching him, I said, "And so?"

He did not reply at once but he tightened his hold on me before he pressed his mouth to mine. When also this kiss had reached an end, he glanced up at me and there came the faintest touch of colour to his cheeks.

"Elrond," he murmured.

"Aye," I whispered, and I ran my fingers through his golden hair like sunlight filtered through the sedge. "Come with me?" I asked him. "For I do not desire to sleep alone any longer."

"Never again," said he.

My chambers were set in such a direction that my windows faced no others and only my own private gardens lay beyond my balcony. A narrow flight of stairs led up to it from the lower gardens and the pale stone steps were worn smooth with history. Up them I guided Legolas before me and he turned a smile over his shoulder as my hands landed on his waist.

"Anyone will think I have had too much wine," he informed me. "And that you are afraid I shall trip over my own feet."

"Have you ever done so?"

"Tripped over my feet? Not since I was little."

"Then," I gave him a small push, "there is precedence."

He laughed at that and covered my hands with his own. When we had safely reached my balcony and stood upon the landing, I gently turned him around to face me. In the moonlight, he was a thousand shades of silver and pale gold.

"No one can see us from here," I said, even as I fingered the collar of his fine tunic. "Unless they have sneaked unbidden inside my gardens."

"Is that so?" An entirely new gleam came into his eye and it sent a sharp twang through my entire body.

"That is so," I said, but I lost a breath.

He only looked at me. I found his waist again with my hands and tried to steady myself.

"In the Elder Days," I began, with a voice that could have been stronger, "this was what truly sealed a union among the elves…"

His eyes, so clear, were fixed on mine.

"It is different now," I finished.

The smooth wool, almost silken to the touch, was warming under my hands at his waist. With my thumb, I rubbed a small circle into the fabric. I had held him before and seen him yearn for more of what I had the courage to give him, but never had we come together completely and this night I wanted it.

"To give of the body," he said softly, "is pleasurable. But to give of the heart and soul at the same time..." Again, his gaze fell to my chest. "I imagine that is something else entirely..."

He looked up at me again and the starlight was in his eyes. "I think it is not so different nowadays. Not truly," he said.

I let my hands wander, up his back and over his shoulder blades. His hair brushed over my skin. He stepped in closer and his hands came then into my hair and their press to my neck was tentative as he brought me in for another kiss. At the very base of my spine it felt as though warm waters were spilling in to flood me, and I wanted the entire sea.

**TBC**


	37. Chapter 36

**A/N:** To those of you who have left anonymous reviews: thank you so much for your kind words! Now, here we go…

**Chapter 36**

He melted, like the sunset into the horizon, into my arms. His kiss was the radiance of summer and when he opened his mouth to allow me to taste him fully, I was sure I was blinded by it. The softness of him, the richness and the fullness of his kiss, brought my hands yet again into his hair and I cupped the back of his head to angle it so that I might taste his depths.

His hands came to my waist and he gripped me more fiercely than he had ever done before. His hold on me managed to ground me as I gradually lost my sense of direction. For he found my tongue, and his own one slid against it, and I thought I gave up breathing altogether.

But I discovered, when the kiss eventually ended, that I still breathed, and heavily so, and Legolas appeared similarly affected. He looked down to where his hands lay on my waist and then up again, and his eyes were darkened like the evening sky above us when they met mine.

"My lord..." He swallowed.

I nodded, for I knew what he desired though he did not dare to word it.

"Yes," I said, and to my own ears I sounded hoarse.

He frowned then, briefly, and concern flashed in his face. His lips parted but he did not speak.

So instead I dipped my head and found his ear with my mouth. I kissed the pointed peak of it and exhaled against it, and his shudder raced through me, too.

"Show me," I murmured.

I barely felt his hands on my form now and nor my feet on the stone. For a heartbeat he did nothing but then he turned his head and found my mouth again with his, and if I thought our previous kisses had been glorious, this one was overwhelming.

His hands moved as well, and he slid his palms up my back. His hold on me strengthened and an edge of expectation was suddenly in the way he stood against me. He caught my tongue and sucked on it and it drove every thought from my mind. I knew only the yearning in him, the silken flow of his hair through my fingers, and the deep wet warmth of his mouth.

When we next parted, he rested his forehead against mine and his breathing came shallow and quick. He laughed, suddenly: a breathy, nervous sound.

"I do not know where to begin."

I smiled. "Have we not already begun?"

"Aye..." He secured his hold on me. "Perhaps. You are right."

"I am very wise – I _am _the Lord of Rivendell," I said.

This made him laugh again. But he drew back just a fraction and when he looked at me, he was serious.

"I know," he said. "How I know."

I slipped one hand from his hair and stroked his cheek instead. "Pretend I am any other elf," I suggested softly, seeking to make him smile again.

But he shook his head, even as I held him. "I could never. For it is..." And under my touch his skin warmed and there blossomed in his cheek a sweet rosy hue. "For it is the Lord of the Valley whom I love," he said quietly.

"As he loves you," I said, as I slid my fingertips to his chin and tilted it up slightly. "As _I _love you."

My gaze fell to his lips and they were deliciously reddened still. I brushed the pad of my thumb over his lower lip.

"Will you please not show me?"

Then fire came into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

I replaced my thumb with my mouth and we shared a new kiss, not as bold, but longer.

"Else I would not ask," I told him, when it was over.

He nodded. "I will lead you as far as you will go. But…"

He faltered and for a moment stood only breathing. Then his gaze flickered over my face and when he next spoke, he sounded almost embarrassed:

"We will need oil… or some such liquid. And there must be some preparation." His eyes fell from my face entirely. "I can do it, my lord… You would not need to–"

"Legolas…" I cut across him gently, "I want it."

I resumed my hold on him in the hopes that it might give him courage. The truth was that I for once knew very little of what I was asking to be shown, but I desired it all the same.

"Perhaps…" I said, careful to keep my voice down, "it would be easier if you entered me?"

But at this he gave a vigorous shake of his head. "No!" he said, at once. "No, I could not."

I tried to catch his eye but he would not look at me. "Why is that?"

Then suddenly his arms flew around my shoulders and he pressed himself close to me. I accepted him into my arms more than willingly and felt his breath in my hair.

"I could not," he repeated, but it was a whisper now. "For I have never desired to take, but only to be taken."

I shuddered at his words, at the way he offered himself to me. Overcome I was with images and visions of what it would be like to sink into him and feel his body accepting me. The world swam before my eyes as I realised I had only to lead him to my bedchamber to find out what indeed such a union would be like.

My hands drifted to his hips and I urged him to look at me again. There was colour still, high on his cheeks.

"Shall I take you, then?" I murmured, and I marvelled at hearing myself speak so. "Is that your desire?"

"Aye," he said, on an exhale.

And there, in that moment and in the face of his anxiety, I found a smile.

"We are lucky that we are in the house of a healer," I said. "For there are plenty of oils and salves here."

His laugh was shaky.

"Come," I suggested. "Let us go inside."

We left the night sky behind as I guided Legolas into the house and through to my bedchamber. There I left also him for a moment to find what we needed and I returned with a small phial of oil normally used for rubbing into bruises and sore muscles. Throughout the years, and especially so in the fostering of the children of the chieftains of the Dúnedain, I had discovered that keeping a store of such treatments was not in vain.

I placed the phial on the bedside table but made no remark for I had no wish to make Legolas any more uneasy. For already he stood by the bed, looking as though he were wondering if he ought not retire to his own chambers. Therefore, before I pulled off my formal robe, I went to him.

Our eyes met and his smile was weak. I reached out to him with both my heart and mind and sensed apprehension mingled with his longing.

"I want this," I assured him quietly, "though readily I admit that I do not know exactly what it is."

It took him a while to answer and when he did, his voice came like a thread of a wary wind.

"I fear," said he, "that if I give myself to you, my lord, I will never be myself again. For I would gladly give everything that I am and bid you keep it."

Some of his hair had come loose from his braids and now I fastened the fair strands behind his ear.

"You are yourself," I said, "and always will be." With my fingertips, I followed the curve of his ear until I felt a tremor pass through him. "But if you would commit yourself to a life here, with me, then truly I am blessed."

It was not exactly an offer of marriage though I was now drawing close. He was well within reason to question my meaning but he did not. Instead, his eyes sought mine and I felt his heart beat within me.

"I am here, with you," he said.

And I did not ask him what he meant by that but only slid my hand to his neck and then his mouth was on mine. The world changed when he kissed me. His lips parted and his tongue begged entrance to my mouth and I opened up at once.

Sooner than I had expected his hands began to wander, emboldened perhaps by my words. He found the fastenings of my robe and he fingered them. I broke the kiss, then, and nudged his head to the side so that I could kiss my way down his throat. His breath became a satisfied moan and I felt the fabric give way under his hands and soon he was pushing my robe off my shoulders, and I let it fall.

He mapped my upper arms and my back with his palms, and there was in his touch now a force which I had not known in him before. There was anticipation, all of a sudden, and determination in him, and I swallowed as I felt my own flesh stir at the way he explored me. I opened my mouth on his throat and felt the light in him shimmer just under the surface; and I kissed him there and maybe even marked him.

When his hands wandered underneath my shirt I heard my own moan wrap around him and I knew I wanted more of him. Therefore, I brought my own hands to the laces of his tunic and set to work even as I found his mouth again. It proved a challenge and the kiss had to be abandoned. But when I had pulled back and looked into his face again I was glad it was so. For his eyes were midnight and his lips reddened and parted and I read in him all that he wanted of me that night. Air stumbled in my throat and I felt the warmth that lay around my spine turn restless.

"We are…" I said, with a rough voice that I was sure was not my own, "going to have to talk about these. Later." I gave the laces a small tug but the knots were stubborn and would not come undone.

His grin was dazed. His hands lay upon my waist and the heat in him was drenching my skin.

"Try again, my lord," he suggested, and his voice was deliciously raspy.

"I will tear it," I warned him.

Then he slid his hands further down and they came to my hips and he rocked me forwards. My breath was driven from me as our groins came together briefly, but long enough for me to discover that he had hardened.

"Do it," he whispered.

But I managed without destroying the fabric. Finally, his tunic and his shirt fell to join my robe on the floor and never had I cared less for any garments. I pulled off my own shirt after that and Legolas' skin against my own as he moved into my arms was sun-warmed silk. It was then that he rubbed himself against me and I buried my face in his golden hair and groaned. For he had woken in me a searing lust and it became an itching fire in my breast that rose up through my body to crowd my throat. My hands came to his hips and I angled them, bringing him closer still, until I could feel his hardness flush against my own. In that hour I wanted nothing less than to possess him and the hunger that claimed me was frightening. But Legolas' breath was a whimper against my throat and he pressed ever closer and my hands came to cup his backside, and it was not enough.

**TBC**


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

We made it onto the bed finally, as the spill of moonlight through my windows lengthened. There I worked open Legolas' breeches and fed off his shaky laughter as I once more had to contend with his laces. My own I undid hastily and it was a relief to be rid of my clothes. I pressed my aching flesh into his side and he twisted his head and found my mouth with his own. The kiss was deep and he sucked on my tongue until starlight filled my vision and I had well-nigh forgotten my own name.

The he released me and his eyes on mine were the blue fire of Vilya upon my finger. I stroked my palm down his chest, down over the flat plains of his belly, and then I found his length, twitching and swollen.

"Oh, ai," he breathed, as I gave him a first stroke and he arched upwards.

I fisted him slowly, drinking down his every moan. His kisses became erratic but I enjoyed that, too, as I pushed him deeper into ecstasy. When he was trembling in the moonlight, I paused and pressed a new kiss to his mouth.

"More?" I whispered. For I wanted more.

His eyes were heavy-lidded and his breathing quick. "Aye," he managed.

His heat invaded me yet again but I abandoned his risen flesh and hurriedly turned to fetch the oil. When I lay once again against him, I dropped a kiss to his shoulder.

"How?"

He roused himself enough to speak and through the desire that blazed in his eyes, an edge of worry gleamed.

"I can do it," he said. "You would not have to."

But I shook my head. For he lay outstretched before me, unclad and yearning, and it was my keenest desire to cover all of him and discover everything about him.

"I will do it."

He licked his lips and it was an irregular heartbeat or two before he replied. "Slick your fingers then, my lord."

And I did so. In the moonlight, Legolas turned onto his side and for a moment all I could do was to behold him. He was light in the light, gold clad in silver-white and his skin over his lightly muscled arms and legs glowed. But then the fire overtook me and my eyes went to his backside and with my oiled fingers I discovered the crease there and what lay hidden beyond.

His secret opening beckoned to me and it was by instinct that I began exploring it. His exhale came shuddering from him and I opened my mouth on his shoulder and left wet, warm kisses there. I was reaching for the fire now, drawing steadily closer, and then, ere I had planned it, I pressed a first fingertip inside him and heard myself groan. For he was too tight, so hot and forbidding and yet so willing. He shifted his top leg and gave me easier access and I pressed deeper inside. His moan transformed into a whimper as I pushed my finger inside him.

"Please…" His hand was fisted in the linen, I saw when I could see again. "Please… open me."

I did my very best. His muscles were tight and taut as I stretched him, not knowing exactly which way was better but I explored the muscle as best I could and little by little it gave way. His breathing was somehow both shallow and deep, ragged and smooth. I dropped my head to his shoulder and squeezed my eyes shut when I discovered that three of my fingers slid into him fairly easily and my own flesh jerked against the bed.

"Legolas…" I found my voice almost perished in the fire. "Tell me…"

He nodded, then, frantically into the pillow. "Aye…"

That was when I withdrew and instead took myself in hand. I gave my length a forceful stroke and felt the bed dissolve under me. Great flames were licking at me, urging me on, and they ate the remnants of any walls around my mind, and illuminated my very soul. Thus unshielded and exposed, I placed the head of my length at his opening and pushed inside, and I was utterly consumed.

I sank into him, pushed into his light that was all around me. I moved into his heart, felt all of him accept me, and my hand found his and my kisses his neck. Entirely without thought I dove deeper and he was first strung tight with tension. But then his moans came like a song and he melted into me, and I into him.

I moved within him, into the tightness and all that heat. He moved against me, and he twisted his head and our kiss was messy but glorious. Then he pushed my hand down and I read his intent at once, and I found his length hard and leaking at the tip. I encircled it as I thrust deep into him and then I stroked him hard. He keened, then, and it was a noise that obliterated every reservation I had ever had. Every shudder that raced through me became his and by the time we peaked, I am sure we were both shaking. When he came he spilled his release all over my hand. And I, with my groan torn from my burning throat, emptied myself in the raging fires of his most secret depths.

Long we lay with tremors and shudders racing across our skin for the world simply would not settle. We shared a shaky laugh and ever more confused kisses and I caressed his body and brushed fingertips over his quivering length until he was squirming. Finally, though I immediately regretted it, I slipped from his body and dropped down onto my back and he fell against me.

The moonlight had moved on and now only the stars illuminated the night. The air was warm and still. Slowly I surfaced, until I saw again the bedposts and my curtains. Then Legolas shifted and he moved to curl around me. The fire was cooling in his skin and he was himself again and not the overwhelming blaze I had discovered. But that was a blessing, I suspected, for I was not sure I could have endured any more heat that night, for that would have eradicated me. And yet I knew that I would seek again to chase his fire ere long.

And so smiling I caught his hand in mine and brought it to my lips and kissed it. His sigh wafted over my shoulder and chest and he pressed a little closer to me. And there in the silver starlight, we drifted off into dreams.

o.O.o

Dawn came clear and bright. It found us much like we had fallen asleep: with Legolas twined around me. As sunlight brought a golden glow to the air, he stretched against me.

I found his arm which had come around my waist and upon his skin I drew invisible patterns with my fingertips until he laughed and withdrew.

"It tickles, my lord."

"Does it so?"

He raised himself up to be able to look into my face. The sunlight was in him, too, and his smile was soft. I lifted my fingers to his cheek instead and stroked it.

"I could never have imagined," I said quietly, "what it would be like."

He bit his lip and into his eyes came an intense glow. "It was more than I have ever known," he admitted. "I thought I was going to explode."

"I would have gone with you," I told him. "For I cannot leave you now, even if I wanted to. Which," I added, with another smile, "I do not."

Then he kissed me.

It took us a long time to make it out of bed that morning. When we were finally washed and dressed – Legolas in his clothes from yesterday – I caught him by the waist and pulled him into my arms.

"Go to your chambers and change," I told him. "And come then to breakfast." I smiled and ran my fingers over his still damp hair. "And try to look as though I only read you poetry in the high Elven tongue last night."

"Oh, the Elven tongue," said he, and his eyes glittered. "I know your tongue, my lord."

I groaned but kissed him.

I was not the last to breakfast and nor was Legolas for it was still fairly early. But Glorfindel was there when I entered the room and he took one look at me before he shook his head.

"By the Valar, Elrond," he said, with not a little exasperation leaking into his voice. "You appear as though Telperion and Laurelin themselves have materialised in your bedchamber and you have beheld them all night. If Legolas looks any more the same, Thranduil will have your head."

"Thranduil may hew as he pleases but it will not be at my head," I told him. "For we have spoken and settled this matter between us."

"Be that as it may," he replied dryly. "But seeing you thus he may very well change his mind."

The sweet scent of warming soil and grass drifted through the window and birdsong came with it as I smiled at Glorfindel, truly unable to do much else.

"He will not," I told him.

But Glorfindel only gave me a look full of doubt before he settled down at the table. He did forsake his usual seat, however, and so left the one to my right unclaimed. Hiding yet another smile from him, I reached for the bread and awaited Legolas.

He arrived in the company of my sons and perhaps it was their talk that had chased the most shining edge of bliss from his face, for they were discussing archery and seemed quite absorbed by it. Both Elladan and Elrohir were dressed for riding or fighting, I noted, and Legolas had donned thicker breeches. A twist came to my heart as I spotted this for it made me fear that they had changed their minds and would be off again though they had promised to stay for a while. But I soon discovered that my worry had been unfounded for no more had Elrohir snagged a roll of bread and the jar of honey before he turned to me and spoke:

"Father," he said, "good morning." He dropped down into the chair by Glorfindel and grinned. "You should know that we happened on Legolas as he was making his way to his chambers. Since he appeared all alone we offered to take him out into the practice fields for some more training after breakfast."

Legolas had shifted a bit closer to me but there was a shade of hesitancy about him. Therefore, I pushed out Glorfindel's abandoned chair and motioned for him to sit down. A timid smile caught his lips and he quickly slid into it.

"It would please me, my lord," he said, his eyes on mine. "For it has been a while since we last tested our skills and I have since learnt much of your way of fighting."

"Then you shall," I told him. "You may do whatever you please. I am sure you will enjoy the exercise."

"Ah, yes," said Elladan tartly, and his lips twitched. "For I am sure you have seen no exercise at all in the past few hours."

Not even Glorfindel could scowl at that. Rather, I heard from him the failed attempt to hide his snort and Legolas' cheeks were suddenly burning.

So it was that I levelled my gaze at Elladan before I lifted my hand to Legolas' reddened cheek and quite deliberately leaned in and kissed him. And when it was over, and shock danced in his grey-blue eyes, I sat back and proceeded to butter my own bread.

Then Elrohir inclined his head at me and his grin had melted into a genuinely appreciative smile.

"Well played, father," he said. "Well indeed."

**TBC**


	39. Chapter 38

**A/N: **Apologies for the delayed update! After this one, we have three chapters left.

**Chapter 38**

As it turned out, Thranduil exhibited no particular desire to see me beheaded once he had swept into the room and his sharp eyes fell on Legolas at my side. On the contrary, he appeared rather pleased as he chose the seat furthest away from Glorfindel and if Elrohir found the prospect of engaging the Elvenking in conversation daunting, he made no show of it.

That was not to say that I would not be glad when he left. He seemed as if out of place in my halls, in a way Legolas had certainly never done. He was too proud for the gentle breezes and the sweet tinkling of water that filled the Valley – too _much_, simply. I realised, as I watched him, that he had been made for the vast underground caverns where he dwelt, even if it was rather he who had made them. Or Oropher, his father, it was, more likely. And that, I guessed, was the reason for why the Sindarin king of the Silvan elves of Mirkwood lived much like the Dwarves whom he so despised: for Thingol had been King in Menegroth, the Thousand Caves, in Doriath and there Oropher had spent his youth.

I considered all of this as conversation picked up around the table and jars of butter and soft cheese and honey were passed from hand to hand. When finally Mithrandir appeared in the doorway, and looked as though he had already been up for several hours and was minding his own business and only by chance stumbled upon us, the general mood improved even further. It was a rare time in our lives, I would much later reflect, when for a while our hearts knew peace, and sorrow and the threat of sundering lay dormant.

"I think I shall travel westwards," said Mithrandir, after Elladan had pressed him some about his plans. "It shall be a short journey," he promised, when this was met by opposition. "I shall be back for the Midsummer celebrations."

"Good," said Elrohir, "for we have made mention of your fireworks to Legolas and he is keen to see them."

"Is that so?" Mithrandir's eyes were sharp under his bushy eyebrows. "What else, pray, have you signed me up for without my knowledge?"

"I would never keep you from your business," broke in Legolas. "It is true that I have never witnessed the magic of the Istari and I should be excited to do so, but–"

Thranduil had the time to look mildly irritated by his son's interest in the wizard's skills before Mithrandir gave a huff.

"_Magic_," he said, "is not what you think. What neither of you think. But I suppose you may be forgiven for it." Then he smiled and at once appeared gentler. "You shall have it. And if you will lend me a good horse, Elrond, my return shall be all the more swift. I would never presume to borrow one of the Mirkwood beasts…" He sent the Elvenking a shrewd glance.

"Quite right," said Thranduil coolly.

"Then take your pick from among mine," I told him, with a smile. "But be quick about your business for now you have made a promise."

He gave another huff and grumbled about being ordered around by elflings but I caught the humour in his eyes. When I turned to Legolas, however, I noted a nervous shimmer about him, as if he were unsure if he had been reprimanded or not by the wizard. My first instinct was to speak with him and ease his worry but in the end I said nothing about it. Legolas, I reasoned, would have to find his own footing and forge his own relationships with my family and friends without me easing the way for him. He was young but no child, and I would not treat him as such.

That was when he caught my eye and I clearly saw the need for reassurance in his face. But as if he shared my thoughts, he overcame it and asked instead:

"What will you do today, my lord?

Naturally, I had intended to settle in my study after breakfast and I told him as much, but on my way there, I found myself hesitating. I came to a stop, in the middle of an empty hallway through which, in that moment, nothing but the scent of summer chased. And I remained quite still, staring into the distance.

How many hours, I wondered, had I spent behind my desk. How many years did they make up?

I did not want to know, I decided. Therefore, I spun around on my heel and made for my chambers instead. There, I cast off my clothes in a hurry and, from the very back of my closet, dug out well-worn breeches and a fitted tunic and a good belt. I chose boots with care and redid my hair so that it was kept well out of my face. Then I made for the training grounds.

There was no way to approach them without being seen for here was no scatter of trees. Two humble rivers flowed down from the rock to frame the path and the grass was kept short. Overhead, the sky arched blue and clear and sunlight streamed down upon the figures locked together in an awkward embrace near the centre of the sanded area designated for training. But they did not see me.

Elladan it was, and Legolas, and they had each twisted themselves into uncomfortable positions, almost back to back. Elladan's wooden sword was in his left hand, a clear sign that he must have dropped it and snatched it from the ground in great haste. Legolas right arm was raised and he held a shorter sword, resembling a long dagger, but he was having trouble reaching back to thrust it at his opponent. Supervising them, lowered into a squatting position, was Glorfindel. As I watched, he got up and with some adjustment of their lowered arms I could not see and an experimental nudge at Legolas' knee, got him to spin out of the deadlock.

He moved like the rivers at my feet. And Elladan, my son, eager like midnight, recovered just as quickly. He grinned as he too spun around and lifted his sword for a blow that would have – had he been wielding pure steel and the attack made in earnest – cloven my lover in two, had the latter not slid sideways just in time. Pride and wonder burst into my heart as I watched them move upon the sand with the sunlight flashing in Legolas' hair and dancing in Elladan's eyes.

Transfixed, I stood, until Glorfindel called for an end and the kicked-up dust was given a chance to settle. Elrohir, I saw now, slid off the bench by the fence and came to join them. Glorfindel was pointing something out as I resumed my walking and caught their attention at last.

"Father?" Elrohir, the one of them who was not still panting, stared at me.

"Elrond?" Glorfindel's surprise was in his voice. "Is something the matter?"

"Not so," I said and smiled, but my eyes found those of Legolas and they were wide. Then his gaze left my face and travelled all over my form and, if I were not deceived, a faint flush came into his cheeks.

"I have come to join you, if you will have me," I told Glorfindel. "It has been a while since I tested my strength." I will admit that I took some delight in the way in which he stared incredulously at me.

But he recovered quickly.

"Very well," said he, as something wicked crept into his eye, and he grinned. "This should be interesting. Legolas, fetch your sword for him and we shall see what he remembers."

When Legolas came up to me with the wooden sword, I saw the dust on his face.

"Thank you," I said, reaching for the pommel. Then I gave a weak smile. "Do not expect too much of me."

"I do not know what to expect," he admitted.

"Well…" I tested the weight of the sword. It was light, but its core was of steel and it felt not wholly unfamiliar. "It has been many years since I last did this."

"You will do well, I am sure."

I looked into his dusty face and caught him smiling. "Turn your eyes away, then," I warned him. "And you shall not be disappointed."

But he shook his head, and his smile was both easy and intimate in a way which chased my breath from me. "I could never not look at you, my lord," he said quietly.

So I reached for him and placed a kiss on his lips. He pressed back against me and the sunlight filtered through the dusty air and encased us in a glittering halo.

But Glorfindel's voice came sharp and it ended the kiss:

"Elrond," he complained. "If you have come to shatter Legolas' focus then admit to it instead of making up some lie about recovering your fighting skill."

I laughed as Legolas slid away from me with a regretful look. Then I motioned at the sword Elladan was still holding.

"Give that to Glorfindel," I told my son. "If I am to humiliate myself, I shall not do so without taking him down with me."

My Captain did not hesitate for a heartbeat.

o.O.o

We took turns. After my second round with Glorfindel I watched Legolas and Elrohir work through a series of steps and movements until their brows were shining and their feet almost became tangled. While Elrohir wiped the sweat off his forehead, Legolas made for the bench on which I was sitting.

Perhaps he was too tired to care about what the others might think for when I opened my arms to welcome him into them, he sank down to sit between my legs, and he smiled. He was warm, his blood pulsing and his cheeks burning from fire within as I secured my hold on him and urged him to recline against my chest. He was dusty and sweaty, and his scent was all around me.

"You are skilled indeed," I told him, dropping a kiss to his golden hair.

He tilted his head back and grinned. "You were not bad, my lord."

I laughed. "Say no more," I told him, "if you will say nothing kinder."

He pulled my arms tighter around him and settled more firmly against me.

"I tease you," he said. "You may be a scholar but you are a warrior as well. It shows in the way you move."

On the sand, Elladan had joined his brother and Glorfindel, but none looked too keen to resume the training.

"Oh, I am sure," I said wryly, though I admit I also felt not a little pleased by that assessment.

He laughed again and the sunlight fell in radiant showers where we sat.

"Would it please you if I joined you here more often?" I asked.

But at this he half turned to be able to look me in the eye. As he regarded me, I could almost see his thoughts turning.

"No," he said at last. His eyes reflected the blue sky. "Not if by doing so you seek to prove yourself to me. Only if you enjoy it for what it is, my lord."

"And if I seek to prove something to myself?"

He nodded softly. "Aye, that too, perhaps. If you take care to remember that you are not valued by your skill in battle."

I shook my head, smiling as I did so. "You know my heart."

He made himself comfortable again, resting his head against my shoulder. "I keep it within mine own."

**TBC **


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

As the sun's journey curved even further westwards I felt my arms fall limp and heavy to my sides. Finally, I admitted defeat and did not make another attempt to lift the wooden sword.

"Enough?" Glorfindel was grinning, but he was leaning back against the fence and his breath, too, came in quick puffs.

"Aye," I said. "Enough."

There was a hint of an ache in my shoulders and my breeches were matted with dust. I longed for a bath and the stillness of evening. Yet I was proud and happy that I had made it here today.

Four feet away from me, Elladan also lowered his sword and nodded at me. "Not bad, father," he said, and there was dirt on his cheeks but a sparkle in his eye. "You fight better than most orcs."

"You are generous with your praise," I told him dryly.

"I do my very best," he said. Then he winked at me. "Indeed, I have learnt from the master himself." And his grin was directed at Glorfindel.

"Hold your tongue," said my Captain. "And gather the swords together, and Legolas' knife. You shall have the honour of carrying them back. How is that for showing generosity?"

"I would be glad to help," said Legolas, who was coming up to join us. Elrohir was only a step or two behind. They were well-matched in battle and Glorfindel had made them work hard. "Give me your sword, Elladan, and I shall carry it for you."

But Elladan shook his head "No," he said. "Give me yours instead. You are our guest and it was our idea that you should join us."

At his words, there flashed across Legolas' face a mix of emotions that came in such a hurry that I did not have the time to read them all. However, the sight tugged oddly at my heart and I thought I understood. But he quickly recovered and surrendered both sword and knife to Elladan. Elrohir swept past us then and nodded at me, and spoke:

"Best we disarm you, father, lest you should develop too strong a taste for fighting and ride off and leave us to governing."

"Perhaps it would do you good," I told him, but gave my sword up.

"Let us not find out," said he. "Come, brother! I have had enough dust kicked into my face for one day." Then he shot Legolas a sideways, sly grin. "I know that trick now. Next time I will be prepared."

Legolas acknowledged this with a nod but then he, too, grinned. "Perhaps next time it will rain."

In the end, Glorfindel joined them and carried two swords of his own. They disappeared off into the sunlight that melted down into the Valley and for a while I stood listening to the weaving together of their voices. Then Glorfindel's laughter exploded into the air and my heart was filled with the deepest love for he had played a role in my sons' lives I had not even seen the need for, and there were no words to describe my gratitude. That was when Legolas stirred.

"My lord?"

I nodded. "Aye, let us return to the house."

Sunset was still a few hours away and over us, where we were walking, the sky was high and a luminous milky blue. We wandered slowly towards the house between the streams and a butterfly followed us above the grass for a while until it fluttered off eastwards.

After a while, Legolas drew closer and caught my hand in his. He smiled as I looked at him.

"You look happy," he noted.

"Aye, happy and weary. Next time, please remind me to remember that I have urgent matters to see to when Glorfindel demands another round."

He laughed at this. "We shall see," he said. Then a glint of something very different flashed in his eye. "For it might be that I enjoy the sight of you like this, my lord."

My mouth went as dry as the day but I hoped it did not show. Instead of speaking, I strengthened my hold on his hand and we continued up the path.

The grassy lanes on either side of the running waters were cut off by a line of blooming jasmines and I could not help but notice how Legolas' shoulders dropped just the width of a breath as we stepped in between the bushes. For the path continued on through them, though it was narrower. Now, I also cherished the flowers and their sweet heady scent, but Legolas' seemed to melt into them and I think he did not notice that he came to a stop and closed his eyes.

Gold and white among the green. I watched him and wondered once again if my Valley was enough for him. Yet in that moment I felt less fear and more a willingness to finally know for certain. Therefore, I drew closer to him and when he smiled, I brushed a kiss to his lips.

"Do you know you look as though you wish to be one of them?" With my knuckles, I lightly traced his cheekbone and my skin came away dusty. "Tell me, have I leaves and branches enough for you?"

His grey-blue eyes slowly opened. There was no other way to describe the way he looked other than _sated._ It sent a liquid warmth flowing down my spine and I felt a peace that I had not anticipated, and I knew beyond a doubt that I was feeling what he was. But Legolas held my gaze and from far away I could hear the waterfalls merrily tumbling down from the rock.

"I should like another apple tree," he said.

I blinked at him and he laughed. The space we were standing in rang with the melodious sound of it and it blended with the song of the waters and the dance of a faint breeze that stirred the leaves.

"You shall have two," I said, when I found my voice again.

"Then I shall be content," he smiled. But then he stepped even closer to me and my arms found their place around his waist. "Nay," he amended softly, "not merely content, but delighted. And it shall be more than enough."

o.O.o

We had made it out of the bathing chamber but no further than the bed. If one of us was to blame for that it was Legolas for the way in which his gaze had lingered upon me as we washed had driven every other idea from my mind. And yet we had ended up talking and now I was nearing another point:

"So, when Gil-galad dwelt here–"

His eyes widened. "Gil-galad dwelt _here_?"

"Yes," I said. "For three years he and Círdan stayed beneath my roof ere we marched to war upon the plains of Dagorlad." I heard myself the bitter streak in my voice. "And there, in his defiance of Sauron, he was slain, alongside Elendil."

Legolas nodded but there was still a sense of bewilderment about him. He sat silent for a while before he finally shook his head.

"Gil-galad was here..."

And despite the lingering traces of sorrow, and the memory of all the terror that Evil had wrought in those blackened days, I found that I smiled as I looked upon him.

"Well," I said, "not in my bedchamber. And certainly not in my bed."

Then I laughed, and I reached for him

"Come!"

I urged him down to lie beside me again. He was supple as sunlight but his eyes were fastened on my face and there was in them a shift to grey. I lifted my hair over my shoulder to better be able to see him.

Against the pillow, he shook his head anew.

"I could never match you, my lord," he said softly. "I will lag behind you always. For you have seen all that once was and will never come again."

"I have," I agreed. "I have seen enough for both of us."

With that, I bent my head and placed a kiss over his heart. Then I glanced up again and though I still perceived in him a shade of thoughtfulness, I repeated the action. A third time I kissed his chest, and then did not raise my head again for a quite some time.

Sinking kisses into his skin, I worked my way to one of his nipples and took it gently between my teeth. At this he arched up and let go of a shaky laugh.

"You make a good argument, my lord."

"Hm," I agreed, before I kissed him there also.

His hand came into my hair and he held my head gently as I teased him with my tongue until he was squirming under me and his breaths turned into whimpers. It was then that I lifted my head again and was delighted to note how his eyes had darkened.

"Your hand, my lord?"

I propped myself up on an elbow and gave my free hand to him, and he took it, and guided it under the covers. There I found him aroused.

He swallowed as I encircled his length and gave a first stroke. It was a wonder to me how much I had come to crave this form of lovemaking.

"There is no competition, Legolas," I told him. "There is no race. As for Gil-galad, over two thousand years and more have I had to contemplate his life and deeds and doom. Should I wish to do so further, I could beg of Círdan to come here and with him speak of it."

Absurdly, in that moment, I remembered Thranduil and how he had mocked me. All of a sudden, his derision did not seem altogether unreasonable.

"Too long, I suspect, have I let the past cast its shadow over me," I said now. "I think it is time I looked also to the future."

Legolas shifted. His length was still in my hand and I gave him a new stroke, firmer this time. His lips parted a little. So I stroked him again, and a thrill sped through me at the way he filled my hand and was hot and hard.

I smiled and shifted, too, until his mouth met mine.

"Will you be my future?" I murmured against his lips.

His eyes were the hue of a thunderstorm but his smile was soft like dew.

"Aye," he whispered.

Then I stroked him until he trembled and his hands fisted in the linen. I bore down upon him with kisses and he curled around me as best he could until my hand was quite trapped between us and I could no longer move it. His breath came like fire over my neck and his voice well-nigh drowned in the heat:

"Please, _Elrond_..."

It shook something within me. I kissed his shoulder and extricated my hand and stroked my palm over his hip. He fell against me completely and I ran my fingertips over his skin until I could dip them into his crease. His whimper turned into a moan when I found his opening but he did need not much this time. The press of a fingertip against it made him stiffen against me, and one more kiss to his throat saw him shudder through his release in my arms.

I tightened my hold on him, felt every tremor and even thought I heard his heartbeat thunder

through him. I caressed him: his back, his thigh, his arm. I chased the shivers that ran across his skin, and I breathed in greening leaves dappled with sunlight. When his breathing had slowed at last, I gave him a little nudge and could finally look into his face again.

When he was spent, he glowed.

"I love you," I whispered.

When he would have blushed and turned his face away I brought him back and fixed his eyes with mine.

"Tell me again," I said, "if you will be my future?"

There appeared a line between his brows and I perceived in him a sudden rising tide of questions. Gently, I stroked his cheek and held his gaze.

"Be no longer my guest, Legolas, but make your home here. In every way possible, be my future?"

And there burst into his eyes the most brilliant light and I smiled as I kissed him. I did not need to hear him speak for his answer came exploding into his mind, and it was my own and there I read it; and as my arms came around him I vowed to him that I would keep him in my heart always.

There among the white linen we lingered, skin to skin, and after a while I closed my eyes and felt him settle against me. There, I rested my mind in his and together we strayed on starlit dream-paths until the Moon had climbed high over the Valley and the dew upon the grass was strewn pearls of silver. That was when he kissed me and brought us back and once again I looked upon his face; and his presence in my arms was sweeter than any song that had ever floated on the summer wind beneath the green crowns of the trees in my Valley.

**TBC**


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

I wedded Legolas as the light of the Sun shifted to a deep bronze and the wheat was turning golden. Under the trees we stood when he placed his hands in mine and I kissed him in front of his father and my family.

To Thranduil of Mirkwood I gave many healing plants and herbs that I hoped would prove useful as his people strove with the cruel creatures in his woods. From him I received nothing but Legolas, but from his father Legolas was gifted a new bow, expertly crafted, and a quiver of arrows whose fletching was a vibrant shade of green. To Legolas I gave a slender golden circlet which I placed upon his head, and Anor glinted through the trees and her light fell upon him and he was properly crowned.

There, in the kiss that we shared, I took him once more into my heart and his joy blended with mine until the world lay wrapped in a dazzling light. And from there I led him into our future.

o.O.o

During the years that followed, even as the Shadow darkened and lengthened, I walked with a song in my heart and my soul found solace. Sweet were the hours which I spent with Legolas and his laughter wove itself into my dreams. When I opened him and filled him I knew nothing but that song, and when we lay together, breathing in the starlight, I was sure that I would never again know grief. For so deep did my love for him run, and so brightly did he shine, that the edges of all my bitter memories were blunted and the pain was erased, and I was healed.

He rode out at times with Elladan and Elrohir and I bore the weeks that we were separated as best I could. For I would not hold him against his will and perhaps I thought in those days that the vision of far-off horizons I had once seen in him was only this: weeks and months spent far afield with my sons. And while I knew that they sometimes sought battle with the orcs together, I forced my fears from my mind and focused on other matters. Glorfindel had trained him and he was strong and young and skilled, and he simply must return to me unscathed. There was no other option.

In that time, rumour came to us of a dragon and of his attack on the city of Dale and of Erebor, the Dwarf kingdom under the Lonely Mountain, and gruesome were the tales that sped to us in its wake. From that horror King Thrór escaped with Thráin, his son, and Thorin, who would later bear the name Oakenshield.

That a dragon once more should stretch his wings and slay free folk with his fire was a sign we could not ignore, and long and grim were the councils in Imladris then. But we did nothing at that point for it was still unclear to me when we should act and how. And Saruman and Mithrandir also urged caution and patience, and for another eighty years we lay low, as if waiting for something neither of us knew by name.

As we delayed, orcs crossed the lands and travelling became increasingly perilous. There was war again between the dwarves and orcs for Thrór was slain in Moria and long the earth shook with the grisly sound of battle-axes set against cruel swords. Further eastwards was slain also the King of Rohan and the orcs roamed then freely across those grassy plains.

But when at last Thráin was taken captive and dark whispers rose from Dol Guldur, Mithrandir went there and returned with grim tidings. Thráin he had found but there the dwarf finally perished and Mithrandir knew for certain what power dwelt there. Then we came close to agreeing on an attack on Dol Guldur and even Thranduil voted with me but Saruman spoke against this and his power was persuasive.

It was in that time that mention of the One Ring was made at last and a cool wind seeped through the trees and into my garden. I set against it my will, and all my determination, and Vilya shimmered on my finger. The Elven Rings, untouched by the malice of Sauron, worked ever against him but as Saruman spoke I felt a deep unease settle in my heart. The One Ring, he said, was lost and would never come again to the hand that had forged it, and so we were quite safe. But Mithrandir sat apart from us and he was silent.

Afterwards I sought out Legolas and took him in my arms. He asked no questions but only rested his head on my shoulder and held me close. Then, when I finally sighed and made to straighten, he kissed me.

"I see a shadow on your face," he told me, when it was over.

I lifted my hand to run my fingers through his hair. "The days are darkening," I said.

He nodded. "Aye, but that does not mean that all light is extinguished."

I smiled and tightened my hold on him. "No," I said, "for you are the light."

"Not all of it," said he.

Together we watched as the sun draped the western sky in a dazzling crimson and light lay like a wrought band of copper above the treetops. My arms came around him again, and the first stirrings of autumn hung in the air as he leaned back against me. But I could still find traces of summer in the scent of his hair and the taste of his kisses.

o.O.o

So the years passed and there came into my care several fosterlings of the Dúnedain. Dark of hair they were, and grey-eyed, and there was ever in their faces a solemnity which proved hard to shake. One by one they rose to full stature and even in those days, so long after the fall of Númenor, they stood taller than many others of their kin and were fair enough to look upon in their youth. But they also fell, one by one, and gave up their lives as Ilúvatar had decreed in the Beginning.

Their lives were brief and hard and though they knew some joy it seemed to me that they knew more pain. But they were strong and valiant in battle and though I could not precisely say what about them that woke in me compassion, my house stayed always open to them. Perhaps it was kinship, for in ages past Elros had served as the first King of Númenor and maybe I was honouring him by taking them in. Or perhaps I already then sensed the doom that lay before us all though I knew it not, and a part of me strove to retain our friendship and do for them what I could.

There came then a time of parting, in a fragile spring when the first flowers turned their heads to the tentative sunlight. For many years, Galadriel had urged me to send Arwen to her and equally long I had closed my ears to her wish. But now, as the first notes of birdsong trilled towards the clear blue skies, my daughter herself came to me and took my hands, and spoke:

"I know you wish it not, father," she said gently, "but it is long since I saw the Golden Wood and there the leaves will soon emerge and dance shining in the wind. I should like to see their beauty again."

"We also have trees," I told her, but it was a poor argument.

"We do," she allowed, "and I do not love them any less, but it is also long since I last spoke with Galadriel."

I looked down at her hands in mine. "I do not wish it," I said honestly. "But neither can I keep you here against your will."

Her clear grey eyes glinted with humour. "Why is it that I sense you have spoken such words before? Is it every time Legolas prepares to ride out with my brothers?"

I let her go and I found that she had brought me to a smile. "Maybe," I said. "But that is another conversation."

"Yet not so different," said she. "For just like him, my heart is turned westwards and its home is here, even though I should ride elsewhere and dwell for a time in Lothlórien."

"Thankfully, Legolas has no such desires," I told her, and it made her laugh.

"Then I am glad," she smiled. "For though I love him well and should very much enjoy his company, it will ease my heart to know that he is at your side when I am not."

But I could not smile for in that hour a sense of foreboding struck me and I took her hands in mine again.

"Come back," I said, perhaps more urgently than I had intended for her eyes widened with surprise. Yet I could not chase my sudden anxiety from my heart. "Come back soon."

For another moment she stared at me but then a new smile curved her lips.

"I promise," she said. "I will be back before you know it and we shall see a new spring together."

I nodded but found no more words. Gradually, fear left me but when she at last set out I stood in the courtyard with my arms around Legolas for only he could steady me in that moment. The sunlight gleamed in her dark hair as she lifted her hand in parting and the last I saw of her face ere she turned to the road ahead was the smile that lit it up. Then I closed my eyes and for a long time we stood in silence with only the singing of many birds to soothe the ache in my heart.

He felt it also. I saw it in him when he gingerly turned to face me and there was a streak of pain over his eyes. But he placed his hand over my heart and pressed a kiss to a spot just above it.

"It will be well," he said. "Whatever comes will be good."

"We do not know that," I said heavily.

"Then we must hope," said he, and perhaps he spoke in foresight.

For there was indeed Hope. In another spring, while frost still lingered on the grass, and the Morning Star still sailed low in the heavens, Gilraen of the Dúnedain came at last to my threshold and she was worn and weary. And in my halls she dwelt for many long years ere she returned to her people and among them surrendered her life and went to seek her husband who had been slain. But to me she brought her child and him I received and took into my care; and when he looked upon me with wide, fearful eyes my heart was melted and I gave him the name Estel.

In my halls he prospered and over my grass he ran, and he caught the heart of many, among them Glorfindel and Legolas, and my sons. Fast friends they became and together we taught him speech and writing, and when he was old enough to lift a sword, Glorfindel gifted him one. As he grew, though also he carried the sorrow of the Dúnedain, in his eyes there shone another light completely. And for a time, even as the outside world came once again knocking at my door – this time in the form of Mithrandir accompanied by thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit who went by the name of Bilbo Baggins – laughter once again rang through my Valley.

But as is the way of time, light is eventually replaced by darkness, and this time a darkness so dense and so suffocating came to me that had it not been for Legolas, I surely would have perished. For the seasons turned and Estel grew to full manhood and I revealed to him his heritage. And in that time also, Arwen, my brightest star, returned to me, and yet she was lost forever.

Little will I say of the years that followed. Only that I lay at Aragorn's feet a quest no easier than the one Thingol once appointed Beren, but to no other Man but a King could I ever give my daughter and I fear that in that hour I was hard and grim to look upon. But even this pain was lessened and the deep divide that had opened between myself and Aragorn was somewhat closed, for Legolas was ever beside me, and by him I was comforted.

**TBC**


	42. Chapter 41

**A/N: **My friends, this is the last chapter. Thank you so, so much for following along. Someday I would love to write a sequel set during the War of the Ring but I don't know how much time I will have going forward. So, for now, thank you and take care.

**Chapter 41**

**The year 2984 of the Third Age**

There was birdsong. High above my Valley arched the sky, supported as it were by tufts of clouds, lit from below by the setting sun. They burned of pink and bronze and a brilliant ruby red. The green of the leaves had deepened and darkened as the year slowly turned to late autumn and the mornings were crisp and cool. But the rivers and pools glimmered, and the rush of the waterfalls was joyful and ageless, as though they had always sung so, and the world had never been refashioned in the Elder Days.

I breathed in the scent of grass. No winds played here tonight and I was reluctant to leave for supper. So, on my balcony I lingered, thankful for the peace this hour granted me; I knew far too well that elsewhere, and for countless others, dread lurked among the shadows that deepened as night settled and dreams were twisted and unsettling. For the lands of Middle-earth were groaning under the loathsome burden of a Darkness that threatened to ensnare us all and bring us down and crush us. Yet from where I stood I saw nothing of this, if I did not endeavour to look further, beyond plain sight. But I did not wish it. Not tonight. Not when Imladris was ablaze with the sunset and the days were still warm. Therefore, I allowed my thoughts to scatter and be lost in the glory of the heavens above me and the richness of the earth beneath my feet.

It was sometime later that he found me. He came silently, with no desire to disturb me. This much I read in him for I had cast down my walls and his thought wandered easily into mine, such as it often did these days. But he could never disturb me and I smiled as I turned to him.

He was like a ray of the midday Sun where he stood in the archway. Pale blue was his raiment, the hue of the sky ere the clouds had overtaken it only an hour before. He tipped his head slightly to the side and appeared to study me, and I knew that he was unwilling to shatter this peace he had found me in.

"Messages have come from distant lands," he said finally, somewhat reluctantly. "From over the Mountains."

Leaving the threshold, he wandered out onto our balcony. From here he could see the apple trees, heavy now with fruit, and I had always wanted it to be just so. Three saplings he had once upon a time planted and though they had long ago crumbled with age and withered away, he had from them taken seedlings, and from those in turn, and every year since our first together, apples had ripened among the leaves in my private garden.

He slanted me a glance, still seemingly unwilling to speak of anything that might bring the outside world to our doorstep.

"They say that in Gondor, Denethor son of Ecthelion has succeeded his father as ruling Steward."

I pondered this. Ecthelion had been respected by his people and Mithrandir, whenever the topic came up, had spoken kindly of him and shown some reverence for the late Steward. Disguised and never revealing his true name, Aragorn had served under him for a time and had won his favour. With Ecthelion gone, the people of Gondor would have to hope that his son proved just as wise and fair.

And not only the people of Gondor, I suspected. For suddenly it felt to me as if the world was rapidly shrinking and that happenings far away had a direct impact on our lives here. And in that moment, I looked to Legolas and I perceived in him, for the first time in many long years, as if a whisper of events far beyond my control, and in his eyes I saw again snow-capped mountain peaks and a fast-flowing river.

"Elrond?"

Blinking, I knew again the stone under my feet and the blazing sky above.

"What is the matter?"

The evening was still.

I let out a breath and tried to steady myself. In my breast, the first spark of an old and unwelcome acid anxiety was gasping for fuel, but I quenched it ere it could spread to burn.

"Nothing," I said. "Only…"

I did not have a truth to share. Therefore, I shook my head – as if I had been foolish to believe that what I had seen was a glimpse of the future. And yet I could not lie to him.

"Sometimes," I began warily, "I think this will not always be your home. It is as if, when I look into your eyes, I see in them faraway lands."

He frowned at this. "But I have no wish to leave."

"I know," I said quickly. "And yet…"

But I had no words for I could not explain it. We stood looking at each other in silence until he finally drew a long breath and with a visible effort cast his worries aside. Then he closed the distance between us and wound his arms around my waist. I held him tight to me. I held him so that he could not flee, and I pressed a kiss into his golden hair that was the light of Anor herself. And he buried his face in the crook of my neck as if he had no need for air.

"I shall not go," he murmured against my skin. "I will never leave."

The force of his love was strong. It flooded me, filled me and enflamed me. I had walked among shadows but he had lit up my very soul, and his song was in my heart.

The last trilling tunes of the birds dwindled into the budding dusk. I longed to light a lamp or two and lead Legolas inside and be comforted by the familiarity of the house and the sound of his laughter. Later, we would make our way into our bedroom and there I would seek to pleasure him until he arched up to meet me and we were consumed by the most brilliant fire. Afterwards, we would lie entangled between the sheets and I would chase the tremors over his skin with my fingertips and make him laugh again.

"You are smiling."

He knew it before he had looked into my face. Now he lifted his head to confirm it.

"I love you," I said.

Then he smiled, too, and withdrew from my embrace. But he took my hand and began guiding me towards the stone steps that led into the gardens. And beyond that, presumably to supper.

"You are not the only one smiling," he said, with a grin over his shoulder at me. "For word has also reached us that my father intends to send us wine in time for the midwinter celebrations."

"Thranduil is sending us wine?" I asked, unable to mask my surprise. I was only a step or two behind him but now I came almost to a stop.

"Aye," he said, half turning to face me. There had come a gleam into his eye. "And your authority and talent for peace-making are required, my lord. For this news appears to have pleased Glorfindel beyond measure whereas Erestor has been quick to proclaim an impending fall of Imladris into debauchery and disgrace."

He grinned again. "For the wine in my father's halls is strong, as you may recall."

I shook my head and nudged him on down the steps. "Thranduil must have some reason for this."

"Perhaps," said Legolas lightly. "If so we shall learn of it eventually, I suspect."

"After we have all fallen into disgrace?"

Legolas laughed at that. We had reached the grass now and it was cool underfoot. He turned fully to me this time and something sparkled playfully in his eye as he beheld me.

"I would gladly fall with you, Elrond. Into whichever pit of scandal and shame Erestor has foreseen."

I found it suddenly a bit more trying to breathe but it was not at all an unwelcome sensation.

"Would you indeed?" I managed.

"Oh, aye," he promised, and it caused a swooping sensation through my stomach.

I lifted a hand to his cheek and ran the pad of my thumb over his lower lip. In the touch, I sensed the full force of life in him and how it called to me and rejoiced within my own being. His lips parted immediately and I nearly came undone at the alluring radiance that filled his eyes.

"Erestor never was foresighted," I warned him.

He regarded me for a moment with that shining gaze but then he stepped up even closer and brushed his mouth to mine. "I do not wish to talk about Erestor," he mumbled.

It was true that the Shadow had lowered itself over us and for some time now I had known, deep in my heart and beyond a doubt, that all too soon we would be faced with questions and choices that seemed to us entirely impossible to tackle. And, what was more, though I had done my best to deny it, I knew that in my foster-son's future lay a challenge and that it was only a matter of time until the nature of it was fully revealed. There were purposes, fates and a high doom awaiting us all. And yet, here upon the grass under a glowing sky, with the music of the falling waters twining with the green leaves, I would not think about that. Not tonight.

So it was that I caught Legolas by the waist and pulled him to me. His hair fell long and fair behind his back and I tangled my fingers in it and gave it an experimental tug to reveal his throat. There I kissed him, and his exhale drifted out among the trees and the foliage.

"I do not need wine," I murmured, and his skin drank my words and he shivered. "To know how I desire you. Or how I love you."

He flowed into me and turned his head so that he could kiss me. My hand stayed in his golden tresses and, overcome by their silken feel, I wove them between my fingers. His lips against mine were soft and warm and his depths were my home. There we stood, while the night settled smoothly with not even as much as a sigh, and the clouds broke apart to allow the first silvery stars to shine down upon us. And in that moment, there came the faintest breeze shifting through the air, finding finally its way into Imladris. Its scent was frail but sweet, shy but joyous, and full of promise.

"As I love you," he whispered into the kiss.

Legolas was all around me, in everything I knew and wanted. With him I breathed and with his soul, mine would joyfully sing until the World was ended and remade. And then, when the lights of Telperion and Laurelin were finally rekindled so that their radiance shone forth in a brilliant cascade of gold and silver, and the eternal stars wheeled glimmering about us in a Time beyond Time, I would still hearken to his song and find him; and he would know it and come to me, and love me as I did him.

**Fin**


End file.
